Running
by Megana
Summary: Basil and Meg go into hiding to stop a murder plot in a foreign country.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter One

* * *

Disclaimer: Basil, Dawson, Mrs. Judson, Ratigan, and all related characters are property of Disney. Basil of Baker Street, Dawson, and Ratigan are also the property of Eve Titus. All other characters belong to Megana.

* * *

On one unusually hot summer night in July, I decided to take the novel I had been reading downstairs in an attempt to escape the heat that had gathered in my room. Halfway down the stairs I heard low voices coming from the parlour. I paused and listened.

"Why can't Major Weldon go?" Dawson's voice asked. "It's his business."

"He's too old and handicapped," Basil replied. "The business at hand is much too private, and he would only draw attention."

"Then I'm going with you."

"No!"

"Come now, Basil. I know nearly as much as you do about this whole affair."

Basil then muttered something unintelligible. I leaned forward in an attempt to catch his words.

"...Stay here, in case... It would be most invaluable," he finished.

"What could happen?" Dawson asked.

I heard Basil whisper something to Dawson. I gripped the railing and leaned forward to see around the corner of the stairs. Basil's back was to me, while Dawson's head was turned to the side, his ear next to Basil's mouth.

Dawson's head shot up. "Really?"

I drew back so violently that I slipped on the carpeted stair. I tumbled head over tail, coming to a stop at the foot of the stairs. I looked up at Basil. He raised an eyebrow. I blushed and rose to my feet.

"Meg," he said, shaking his head.

"You're talking about Major Kingsley Weldon of the Queen's Royal Navy, right?" I asked. "He was here?"

"Two days ago," Basil replied.

"Why?"

"Don't concern yourself about that," Dawson said.

Basil grabbed his Inverness and deerstalker and, despite the heat, donned the heavy clothing on. He headed for the door.

"Where are you going?" I asked.

"Out," Basil stated.

"That's _really_ specific," I said sarcastically.

"Be careful on the stairs next time, Mrs. Havers," he shot back with a grin. He opened the door and headed out.

When the door had closed behind him I threw my hands up in the air. "You're all impossible to live with!" I exclaimed.

Dawson smiled. "You have to get used to it."

* * *

Half an hour later there was a knock at the door. Dawson glanced up from his newspaper and cocked his head to the side while staring at the door. Mrs. Judson rushed up and opened it.

"Yes?" she said sweetly to the little boy standing at the door.

He wavered a bit and then collapsed at her feet.

"Dr. Dawson!" she shrieked. The doctor was there in an instant, carrying him to Basil's room, Mrs. Judson fussing after him

I went to the open door and looked outside. A few mice strolling about in the warm summer air stared curiously at Lower 221B. I walked towards the street, a middle-aged couple approaching me as I reached the sidewalk.

"I say miss, is the boy all right?" the man asked in concern.

"I don't know yet." I said. "Do you know him?"

"Oh no," he said. "He was just darting down the street as if the devil himself was after him. We thought he was a thief until he stopped at Mr. Basil's flat."

"Strange," I said. "Well, good evening."

"Good evening," husband and wife chorused.

As I turned back into the flat, I discovered an envelope on the ground. I bent down, picked it up and turned it over. The plain white envelope was not addressed to anyone in particular. I looked around to make sure no one was watching and then opened it.

_Raleigh has an Esau. What is the number one reason for murder?_

I ran inside, slamming the door behind me. "Dr. Dawson!" I yelled, running into Basil's bedroom. "Dr. Dawson, where did Basil go?"

Dawson held up his hand to shush me. "Be quiet Meg. And no, I can't tell you where he's going."

"Who's Raleigh?" I asked.

Dawson whipped his head in my direction. "How did you know about him?" he hissed.

"Who is he?"

"None of your business."

"Where's Basil?"

"That's also none of your business."

A pounding on the door interrupted us. Dawson, Mrs. Judson, and I raced to the parlour. The front door burst open, and two mice came into the room.

"Where's the boy?" the taller of the two barked.

"He's fainted," Dawson said calmly, slowly moving his hand into his inner coat pocket. I recalled that that was where he kept his pistol.

"He's taken something from me," the tall mouse said.

"What has he taken?" I asked.

"A message. This man here," he motioned to his comrade, "was handing it to me, when that little imp took it from me."

I stepped in front of Dawson with my hands behind my back. I waved the message back and forth for him to see. "Now why would a little boy steal a message?" I said coldly. I opened up the message for Dawson to read.

The tall mouse glared at me. "Perhaps he thought it was a wallet, miss."

"Missus," I corrected him.

Dawson put a hand on my shoulder and gently pushed his way past me. "I'll see if I can find it on him."

"We'll come with you," the tall mouse said quickly.

As they went into the bedroom, Dawson muttered to me, "Toby knows. Quick, before midnight."

I hurried to the passage to Upper 221B Baker Street, only to find that The Master was still awake. He was pacing the study, deep in thought. Toby was sleeping about five feet away. I slipped out of the mouse hole and darted across the floor to the dog.

"Toby," I whispered in his ear.

He opened one big eye and looked at me. He jumped up and wagged his tail.

I had only used Toby once, but that was with Basil there to show me how. I was not completely sure how to do this.

"Toby, Basil is in trouble, and we have to find him."

Toby began to growl. I tried to shush him, glancing at Sherlock Holmes. The Master, however, appeared too absorbed in his own thoughts to notice the dog.

"Toby! Quiet, boy. We have to find him. Can you take me to him?"

* * *

JWJ: 'THE MASTER?' That's ridiculous! You Sherlock Holmes fans are really weird.

Meg & Leigh: _Get over it!_

JWJ: And that whole 'Esau' stuff. What's with that?

Meg & Leigh: _Read the Bible sometime!_

JWJ: It's not my fault that I hate to read!

Sarah: Um, yeah it is.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

* * *

Meg: We would like to thank the makers of ice.

Leigh: Yeah. Whoever came up with that recipe really came up with that recipe!

JWJ: You're both insane.

Sarah: A little too much "Whose Line Is It Anyway," I see.

RAEB: Actually, a little too much writing for the both of them.

* * *

Toby came to an abrupt halt in front of a large mausoleum in an old cemetery.

"This is it?" I asked Toby. The dog nodded enthusiastically. "Okay... erm, wait here."

I took a torch off the wall of the masoleum and lit it with a match. Then I descended into the blackness.

* * *

"Who's there? Tell me, or I'll shoot!"

Basil stepped into the light of the speaker's lantern. "It's just me, Cornell."

Cornell sighed. "I don't like this, Mr. Basil. I don't like all of this sneaking around among the dead in the middle of the night."

"Where's Raleigh?"

"He hasn't come yet. Are you sure that no one followed you here?"

"No, I was not followed," Basil said. "I could ask you the same question."

"Me neither," Cornell said. "Why all the secrecy over some old scandal?"

"We shall see."

* * *

"Eh, Boss, who's that?" a low, hissing voice asked.

"Who are you talking about?"

The mouse motioned to a young woman walking down the passage, holding a dying torch. Finally the torch went out. The girl was only visible by the beams of moonlight coming from cracks in the mausoleum floor. She continued down the subterranean passage.

"Oh bloody hell," the other mouse muttered.

His comrade looked at him in surprise. "Who is she?"

"It's that girl who killed Ryu a few months back. Whatshername? Harvey?"

"What's she doing here?"

"How the hell am I supposed to know?"

The mouse hissing voice leaned forward to get a closer look at her. "What do we do about her?"

The other mouse muttered some unintelligible words to himself. He swore under his breath. "You have to leave her alone. Unless..." his voice perked up. "Unless she 'accidentally' gets in the way of your fire. Understand?"

The other mouse grinned. "Of course. Wouldn't want to hurt a pretty little thing like that on purpose now."

* * *

There had been a grate in the mausoleum, with little rocks arraigned to create a rough staircase that led into the underground passage in which I currently stumbled along. My torch had gone out, but there was enough light from the cracks in the stone above to light my way.

A few times I had stopped abruptly at strange noises whose sources I could not determine. I could not help but get that unshakeable feeling that someone observed my every move from the privacy of the darkness.

* * *

A stone skidded across the ground. "What's that?" Cornell asked, pulling out his revolver in panic.

Basil held up his hand. He paused, listening.

A well-dressed mouse about Basil's age came into the light of the lantern. "Good. You're both here."

"I can't see why we didn't do this somewhere more convenient," Cornell grumbled.

"So we wouldn't be followed. Were either of you followed?" Raleigh asked.

"No," they chorused.

"Good."

"Well, where is it?" Cornell said impatiently.

"Where's what?" Raleigh asked.

"The document!"

"Wait!" Raleigh hissed. Footsteps echoed lightly from the passage he had just come down. "Who's there?"

Cornell aimed his revolver.

"Hold on there, Cornell," Basil said softly. "Mrs. Havers, what are you doing here?"

I timidly came into the light of the lantern. "Well-"

"Mr. Basil, I thought that you weren't followed!" Raleigh snapped.

"I wasn't." Basil looked curiously at me, baffled as to how I came to be there.

"Basil, I thought that Weldon had agreed that there were to be no other witnesses besides you and I," Cornell said impatiently.

"She will be gone in a moment," Basil said. He pulled me to the side. "What are you doing here?"

I knew it would be too hard for me to explain in a way that he would understand in a few minutes, so I just handed him the message. He scanned it, then carefully folded it up and put it in his pocket.

"Where's Dawson?"

"At Baker Street."

"Did anyone follow you here?" he asked.

"Well, I..." I blushed. "I had this strange feeling that I was being watched, but besides that, no, I don't think I was followed."

"Stay close to me," he whispered. "Do you have a weapon?"

"No. I couldn't get one. We had visitors, two men who barged in on us, looking for the message-"

Basil held up his hand. "Tell me later." He strolled back to Cornell and Raleigh. "All right Raleigh. What did you do with him?"

"I... I beg your pardon?" Raleigh asked, seemingly confused.

"Your twin brother. What did you do with his body?"

"NOW!" Raleigh shouted.

Basil turned around and shoved me to the ground as shots rang out over our heads. I looked back at Raleigh. He was also on the ground. The third man, Cornell, was on the ground, his face a bloody mess from where a bullet had ripped through.

"Run Meg!" Basil exclaimed, pulling me up with his right arm.

The detective dragged me past Cornell's body and Raleigh as more shots followed us. "KILL THEM!" Raleigh shrieked.

"How are we going to get out?" I screamed at Basil.

"There's a river this way," he answered between gasps of breath.

"A river? How does that help?"

A dark form wielding a knife leaped out at us from the blackness. He made a jab at Basil, who easily dodged it. The mouse then jumped at me and grabbed onto my skirt. I kicked him in the torso, and he released his grasp.

We ran into a huge, moonlit cavern, and reached a steep downward slope. I tripped on my skirts, causing both of us to tumble to the bottom. As we were disentangling ourselves from my skirts I looked to the top of the slope. A dozen dark figures were right on our tails, sliding down the slope.

"Come on!" Basil urged, pulling me up again. We took off. I felt as if my lungs would burst. My foot was also in much pain from the tumble, so I began to limp. "No! Not now!" Basil barked, unkindly jerking me forward.

More gunshots rang off the rocks. We scrambled behind a larger rock, breathing heavily. "How are we going to get out of here alive?" I gasped.

Basil took out a gun and began to fire back at them.

"That works," I shrugged as cries reached my ears. "But what if we run out of bullets?" The click of the empty barrel reached my ears. Basil grabbed my arm and started to run again. _That works too_, I thought.

I glanced back, my eyes meeting a score of them rapidly shortening the gap between them and us. Despite the terror the sight instilled in me, the pain in my foot brought out the limp againwas beginning to limp again. "Almost there," Basil breathed heavily.

There only appeared to be a large drop off descending into blackness. "_No_!" I screamed.

He sprinted to the cliff and we flew into nothingness. Then we began to plummet downward. I was so breathless I could not even scream as we fell.

We hit the water and shot under, and we let go. I waved my arms around, reaching out for anything. Suddenly I felt his hand grip my arm, and Basil kicking towards the surface. I kicked too pushing with my free arm to make the motions necessary to reach the air.

* * *

A few minutes later Basil pulled me out of the water. We both collapsed on the ground, gasping for air. My muscles prickled and burned.

"Why, why did he want to kill us?" I panted.

Basil's chest was heaving. "I don't know."

"The message, 'Raleigh has an Esau?' What does that mean?"

Basil started to ring out his Inverness. "Biblical reference. Jacob, son of Isaac, who was son of Abraham, had a twin brother named Esau, who was cheated out of his rightful inheritance."

I stood up and tested my foot. It throbbed a bit, but it did not seem to be anything more serious than a temporary twist. "So the real Raleigh was killed by his brother, who was trying to kill us?" I said in disbelief, as I squeezed water out of my skirt. "Why would someone want to kill his own brother?"

Basil stood up. "That I what I intend to find out."

* * *

JWJ: Twins. Figures. Raleigh has a twin.

Emma: Or had, rather. That's sad, he killed his own brother!

Lizz: Yeah. Depressing.

RAEB: _(to Meg)_ Murderer!

Meg: RAEB, these people are figments of my imagination. GET OVER IT!


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

* * *

Emma: Okay, who's Weldon? Who was Cornell? Who was Raleigh's twin? Who's Raleigh?

Meg: You'll find out!

* * *

We found Toby waiting for us at the entrance to the masoleum. "I thought as much," said Basil. "Good boy Toby. But where's his leash?"

"I couldn't get it," I explained. "The Master was still awake."

"And he didn't notice you?" said the detective, practically gaping at me. He shook his head. "I'll figure that out later. Now what happened while I was gone?"

I explained to him all that had happened as we got aboard Toby and took off through the cemetery. "Now tell me what's going on," I said when I had finished, my arms tightly around Basil's waist to keep myself from falling.

He held on to Toby's collar as one would to a lifesaver in a storm, struggling to keep aboard Toby as the basset hound tore down cobblestone streets. "Major Kingsley Weldon came to me two days ago. He told me that a Nathan Raleigh had hold of an document that revealed a family scandal for nearly half a century, and if it got into the wrong hands it would ruin Raleigh name. Weldon asked me to come along for the safe transportation of the document from Raleigh to Josiah Cornell, a lawyer from Edinburgh. He was the unfortunate man who was killed this evening."

"What did he have to do with this?"

"Your guess is as good as mine," Basil said. "I have a few theories, but nothing definite."

We did not speak for several minutes as Basil directed Toby in a sharp voice. Eventually we arrived at a nice hotel on King's Street. "Shouldn't we go back to Baker Street?"

Basil shook his head. "First we need to pay Major Weldon a little visit."

* * *

Major Weldon, a stout mouse with completely white fur, sat in front of the open window of his suite when Basil burst into the room. "Weldon, I demand to know why you never told me the real purpose of this midnight excursion."

He looked at Basil and his wet clothes in slight surprise. "What happened to you?" His eyes then fell upon me, and he raised an eyebrow.

"Your message came one half hour after I had left. I was already at the location when Mrs. Havers here gave me the warning, and by then it was almost too late."

Weldon stood up. "It couldn't be helped. I only received information of Nathan Raleigh's death only two hours ago. Where's Cornell?"

"Dead," Basil said shortly. "Weldon, I want real information. I don't play guessing games with my clients. What is going on?"

Weldon gave a grim smile, got up from his chair with a small groan, and turned back toward the window. "Take a seat, Mr. Basil and... ma'am," he said to me. "I will tell you all that I know.

"Nathan Raleigh's real name is Landon Colhart. His father, John Colhart, was English, and his mother French. He has an older sister, Celeste, and a twin brother, Marcus."

"Ah, Marcus Colhart," Basil said softly to himself. I glanced at him in surprise.

"I say, do you know the fellow?" Weldon asked taken aback.

"I've had a few run-ins with several of his cohorts. But please continue."

Weldon cleared his throat. "The Colharts have a large fortune. Landon's father planned to divide the fortune evenly among his three children. As the children grew older, however, Marcus took to boisterous ways, frequenting gambling halls and racetracks. Marcus and his father fought constantly over his habits, and eventually the father disinherited him from the family fortune.

"When John Colhart died two weeks ago, I, as an old friend of the family, went to the Lacasa Manor, just outside of Paris. It was Mrs. Colhart's childhood home, and where she raised her family.

"I found Landon in a state of anxiety. He had received several threatening notes since the death of his father, and he was certain that they had come from Marcus. He feared for his safety, as well as the safety of his sister. Celeste, who is married to a duke of Bohemia, feels that she is safe where she is. But Landon begged me to find someone who would bring his brother to justice and discover if his brother had plans to make good on his threats."

"Pardon me, but 'brought to justice?'" I asked. "Has he done anything illegal up to that point?"

Weldon folded his arms and turned towards us. "Marcus is a blackmailer by trade. That is how he gets the money to gamble. Landon had known of this, but they had been best of friends ever since their childhood, and he ignored his brother's flaws. When Marcus was stripped of his inheritance, he also broke off relations with Landon. After he received the threatening notes, Landon no longer felt the need to keep his brother's occupation a secret from the Parisian gendarmes, but they botched the entire arrest up and Marcus escaped. Landon had hoped that he could find protection with you, Mr. Basil, while you tracked down the brother and arrested him."

"So you wanted me to meet him in the Colhart family mausoleum, under cover of darkness, and keep him safe from his brother's wrath?" said Basil.

"Yes."

"How did you know that Landon Colhart was dead?"

"He was supposed to send a message to me around 10:30 tonight when he arrived in London, but it never came. I waited until 11 o'clock, hoping that the train was just late, but my messenger told me that it had been on time. In fact, the compartment he was supposed to be in was completely empty upon arrival."

"So you assumed the worst?"

"Yes."

Basil started to pace. "Why didn't you tell me all of this before?"

"Absolute secrecy. We feared that if Marcus knew that you were going to be involved that he would take violent measures against his brother all the more quickly to get his inheritance."

"What did Cornell have to do with this?"

"He was the lawyer who drew out the will. There's a loophole that allows Marcus to get the inheritance in the untimely deaths of his brother and sister. We had hoped to consult with him about fixing that little problem."

Basil stopped in front of me. "Meg, go to the front desk and ask the clerk there to telephone Baker Street. Ask Dr. Dawson to come here."

* * *

At the front desk, the clerk tried the phone. He shook his head. "Ma'am, the operator says that Lower 221B Baker Street has been disconnected."

My heart jumped. "What do you mean 'disconnected?'"

"That's what I was told by the operator."

"Can you try again?" I asked.

He attempted to call again, but after a few moments on the phone with the operator he hung up, shaking his head. "I'm sorry ma'am."

"Well, thank you," I said.

I walked to the elevator, but saw out of the corner of my eye someone running down the stairs. I turned my head and saw the familiar Inverness and deerstalker. "Basil?"

"Weldon's been shot!" he exclaimed. "Hurry!"

My eyes rose to the top of the staircase. Our friends from the mausoleum were at the top of the stairs, pointing to Basil and bolting down after him. Basil grabbed my arm.

"Basil, the telephone at Baker Street's been disconnected!" I cried as we rushed towards the door.

He pulled the heavy glass door open and pushed me in front of him. Glass shattered behind us to the accompaniment of gunshots.

We made it outside and got on Toby again. "To Baker Street, Toby!"

* * *

We arrived at Baker Street in minutes only to discover a crowd in front of Lower 221B. Basil jumped off the dog and pushed his way through the crowd. I followed as quickly as I could.

I gasped when I saw the front of the flat. The front windows were all smashed in, while Mouseland Yard officials swarmed around the inside of the house. I ran to Basil, who was arguing with an official. "You have to let me see Vole!"

"I can't let you do that sir."

"But this is my flat! I'm Mr. Basil!" the detective cried. He clenched his fists as if trying to restrain himself.

"Can you prove that?"

His restraints broke. Basil punched the official in the face. The man fell down on his back and stormed into the flat. I followed on his heels, but some more officials held me back. "Get back ma'am."

"Basil!" I screamed.

* * *

"Vole!" Basil barked.

The inspector looked up from behind Basil's armchair towards the figure standing in the doorway of the flat. "Basil! Where have you been?"

The detective waved his hand over the parlour. "What happened? Where's Dawson and Mrs. Judson?"

Vole motioned to the haphazard condition of the flat. "Dr. Dawson, Mrs. Judson, and some boy were attacked by two men. Your landlady and the boy were beaten. Dawson... well..."

"What about Dawson?" Basil snapped.

Vole flinched. "He was stabbed twice and suffered some head trauma."

"No..." Basil stood there, with a dazed look in his eyes. "He doesn't know..." he muttered. Then he marched into his bedroom.

"Basil!" Vole cried. "We can't let you in there, it's a crime scene!" Basil ignored him as he began to put bottles, small boxes, and clothes into a valise. "What are you doing?"

Basil closed the valise and brushed past Vole on his way out. "I'm finding the culprit."

"Can we ask you a few questions about the two men first? They took off, and we're trying to track them down."

"No."

"If you don't come in we may be forced to consider you a suspect!"

Basil turned on his heel and shot Vole a dark glare. "You know I would never stab Dawson. Do your job and let me do mine."

He met Meg outside. "Basil! What happened?" she cried. She then looked at the suitcase in his hands. "You're... leaving?"

"No. _We're_ leaving."

* * *

Sarah: Haha, Basil punched someone in the face! Didn't see that coming!

Emma: Seems out of character to me.

Meg: Hey, if a bunch of crazy people have been shooting at you randomly in the past several hours, two people have been killed in front of you, and you don't know if your partner is dead, I think you would be irked enough to punch someone too.

JWJ: You always threaten to punch me, and you never do it.

_(Meg punches him in the face.)_

Meg & JWJ: Ow!


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four

* * *

Lizz: Basil is taking Meg with him! But where are they going?

RAEB: _(sarcastically)_ To post-war Iraq.

Emma: That doesn't even make sense.

RAEB: It was meant to be a joke. Why are you all so serious?

Emma: Testing... not SATs, but almost as bad...

* * *

I lay back on a crate, staring out at the sea. Water lapped against the hull of the ship, creating a soothing rhythm. Basil sat besides me, smoking his pipe. He had barely said a word since we left Baker Street.

"Basil?" I asked quietly.

He stared straight ahead, as if lost in his own thoughts.

"Basil, it's all right. You can talk to me."

He shook his head. "Not now."

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing."

"Is it about Dawson and Mrs. Judson?" I asked, pushing myself up into a sitting position.

"Could you please be quiet Miss Sarentis?"

"Havers."

"What?"

I glared at him. "Would you snap out of it?"

He narrowed his eyes. "How would you feel if your partner had been critically wounded you failed to discover a danger to him in time? Both Dawson or Mrs. Judson could have ended up like Weldon and Cornell."

"I care about them too," I said. "I could have protected them if I had stayed, but I didn't. If I hadn't-"

"They might have been saved," he interrupted.

"You would have been killed!" I exclaimed.

"Meg, we have a very good chance of being killed right now," Basil said wearily. "Obviously Marcus Colhart doesn't want a living soul to know about his little plan. Like it or not, we've been turned into fugitives overnight."

I stared at my shoes dangling off the side of the crate, at a loss for words. So this was why Basil had made me come with him. "What about Dawson and Mrs. Judson?" I asked cautiously. "Couldn't they be in more danger now?"

Basil shook his head. "Not Mrs. Judson. And I don't believe that Colhart knows about Dawson's involvement in the case. He should be relatively safe in the hospital, if his injuries are not fatal."

We fell back into silence. I started to twist my wedding ring around my finger. "So what are we going to do now?"

He shrugged. "Well, the Duchess of Bachenstrauff's safety is in jeopardy now that Landon Colhart is dead."

"The Duchess of where?"

"Bachenstrauff. Her maiden name is Colhart."

"Oh," I said. "All right, so what do we do? Warn her?"

Basil scoffed. "She's had plenty of warning. What we need to do is find Marcus Colhart and stop him before he gets to her, or to us."

"Do we go into hiding?"

"As a matter of speaking," he replied.

"What do you mean?"

"You'll find out."

"You're so aggravating!" I exclaimed. "Why can't you ever give me a straight answer? You never told me that you knew about Mr. Liang and my arranged lessons, you lied and sent me over to America during the Matthew Childres case, and last night you didn't tell me where you were going and why. And I really don't see how it has ever helped any of us!"

Basil's face turned red as he shot me a dark look. "Madame, before I knew you I didn't have to worry about you or protect you from the very men I've been pitted against for years now."

"Then don't protect me! I can take care of myself."

"You're only nineteen."

"So?"

We had both stood up, facing each other, each clenching our fists, each waiting for the other to act first.

"You know, I can't believe that I've stayed at Baker Street with you for so long. You're pompous, arrogant, selfish, rude, and conceited!" I spat at him. "You think you're better than everyone else. Well guess what? You're not!"

His eyes flickered briefly, as if incited by a fire within. The spark extinguished itself before he could express the emotion. "I've only tried to help," he sighed. "But if it's all gone to waste, then so be it!" He turned on his heel and stormed away.

I stared at his retreating form, turning over his words in my mind: '...if it's all gone to waste, then so be it.' _What had gone to waste?  
_  
I lay back and closed my eyes, letting the gentle rocking of the ship lull me to sleep.

* * *

"What do you mean 'you can't find them'?" Colhart yelled at a half-dozen men.

"Well, London's a big place," said a short mouse with a tattered ear and a dirty blue sweater.

"It's not that bloody big!" Colhart shrieked. "The detective knows about the plan; him and that girl. You'll either bring me their heads, or I'll have yours!"

"They're not in London, you know," said a smooth, amused voice from behind the group.

Colhart looked at the large figure in the doorway in shock. "Shit," he muttered. He then put on a false grin. "Professor. How good to see you," he said, trying with great effort to sound nonchalant.

Professor Ratigan stepped into the room. "Send them away," he said, motioning to the henchmen.

"You heard him," said Colhart to his men. They left the room muttering and shooting sideways glances at the criminal mastermind as they passed him.

"Now," Ratigan began when the door closed behind the last mouse, "you had the greatest mouse detective in all of Europe in your very grasp. What happened?"

"The stupid girl warned him, and..." he shrugged. "My men are all thick in the head to have missed their aim from that close."

"And now the detective and the girl are gone."

"For the moment."

"Well, that presents quite a problem for you," Ratigan smirked.

"I don't see you trying to help any," Colhart said sharply.

"But that's why I'm here, old boy," Ratigan said, beginning to circle Colhart. "Now, you know that to inherit all that money you need Basil dead."

"Yes," Colhart said slowly. "What's your point?"

Ratigan was behind Colhart. "What if," he said, "I told you exactly where to find Basil of Baker Street? What would your price be?"

Colhart held up his hands. "No, no. You either have him in that little hideout of yours or he's already dead. Well I'm not falling for it."

Ratigan smiled sadly. "It's your fortune," he said, walking past him and towards the door.

"Wait!" Colhart exclaimed. The rat turned around slowly as Colhart tried to wipe the eagerness off of his face. "Well," he said, trying to sound indifferent, "I would say that perhaps a few thousand pounds would be fair-"

"I'm not talking about money."

Colhart raised his eyebrows. "Then what the hell are you talking about?" he snapped.

A grin spread across Ratigan's face. "I want Basil and that girl. Alive."

Colhart laughed. "Alive? Oh sure, like Basil of Baker Street's going to let himself be taken alive."

Ratigan folded his arms and shrugged. "It's been done before."

"And what about the girl? She killed Xing Ryu!"

"Ryu was getting too ambitious. And I admire ambition in only one person: myself."

"Well, that doesn't help me if she decides to gut me too," Colhart muttered under his breath.

Ratigan sneered at him. "Are you afraid of a nineteen-year-old girl?"

The mouse forced himself to laugh. "Me? Afraid of a little girl? Hah!"

The Napoleon of Crime sighed impatiently. "What do you say to my proposition?"

Colhart pursed his lips, as if afraid of subconsciously saying the opposite of what he was thinking. Then he stuck out his hand. "It's a deal."

Ratigan kept his arms folded. The mouse slowly let his hand drop. "Right... But what if I don't catch them?"

A slow smile spread across the rat's face. "Well, you had better hope that that doesn't happen. Because it would be such a pity," he continued, "for the Seven Plagues to lose a skilled blackmailer. Fortunately for me I can always find a new one."

Colhart gulped.

* * *

Basil shook me awake. "We're almost there," he said quietly.

"Huh?" I looked up at the night sky. "What time is it?"

"Half past four." Basil opened his valise and began to rummage through it as I watched. Sensing this, he looked up at me. I quickly averted my eyes. He turned back to the valise and pulled out some clothes.

"What's this?" I said, lowering my voice.

"You wanted to know how we were going into hiding. This is it."

* * *

A young man and his elderly mother got on a train at Calais.

A pair of steely gray eyes watched them from behind his newspaper.

* * *

I watched the French countryside pass by as Basil slept next to me, the valise clutched in his hands much like a little girl clutches her doll.

Even Dawson would not recognize him in that gray dress and flowered hat. He had skillfully applied makeup and bits of false fur to make it look like he had wrinkles. I laughed a little, thinking how ridiculous he would look in that dress without the make-up.

I was glad Basil had fallen asleep; we had hardly spoken since our argument yesterday, and it was rather awkward between us when we did talk. This way I could reflect on the events of yesterday without Basil observing my every move.

I wondered how Dawson and Mrs. Judson ever managed to get along with Basil. As much as they appeared to be aggravated by his behavior, he never seemed to argue with them. True, he often kept information from them as well as me, but Dawson understood that Basil would eventually reveal his knowledge to the doctor in his own time. The detective treated me differently, as if he did not want me to know anything while he was on a case.

What did Basil think of me? That mystery was practically impossible for me to comprehend. Basil had been nicer to me as of late, especially since the Matthew Childres case. However, it was nearly two years since I first began to work for him as a maid, and eight months since I began to work for him and Dawson as a secretary, and I still felt like an outsider. Why was I still excluded from cases?

"Basil," I whispered to his sleeping form, "why do you keep me around if you don't want me with you in the first place?"

* * *

JWJ: I just knew you were going to incorporate Ratigan into this somehow.

Meg: What are you going to do about it? Call him up so he can threaten me again?

JWJ: Nah. He's on vacation in Hawaii.

Lizz: That really seems out of character for him...

Meg: _(looking through mail)_ And so does this. JWJ, he sent you a postcard?

JWJ: _(snatches card)_ Gimme that!

Lizz: Okay Meg, let's just leave...


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five

* * *

Meg: Okay, time to try out my less-than-three-years of French skills! I have translations for difficult phrases. Easy or short words I will probably not translate. I've changed some mistakes: thanks to everyone who e-mailed me with corrections!

JWJ: French. It's such a stupid language. They did not help us in the war!

Meg: And this is coming from the kid that's quitting Spanish because it has a socialist government.

JWJ: Yes! They should be ashamed of themselves!

Meg: Admit it, you're quitting because you're just not good at Spanish.

JWJ: That is not true! _(Tackles Meg)  
_  
Meg: Help!

* * *

Once we disembarked in Beauvais, Basil and I changed into trousers, shirts, dirty work jackets and caps, transforming us into labourers. The detective bartered his pocket watch to get us a ride from Beauvais to Paris. When the farmer whose cart we had been riding on decided to kick us out halfway, Basil's mood showed no signs of improving from the English Channel crossing.

Neither did mine.

I shook my fist at the retreating wagon. "Vous êtes un stupid... stupid... um, Basil, how do you say 'imbecile' in French?"

Basil tore off the fake moustache he was wearing. "Imbécile, idiot, or ignare."

"Oh," I said, feeling pretty stupid. I spoke a little French, but Basil's fluency in the language put my skills to shame.

Basil picked up the valise, which had been thrown out after us. "So much for French hospitality."

He began to walk down the dusty road in the hot noon sun. I took off my brown cap and wiped my forehead before following.

"That man can't do that to us!" I began as I ran to catch up to him. "You sold him your watch. It was a fair trade!"

"He whispered to his son that he didn't like the looks of us," Basil muttered. "'Je suis certain que ces deux hommes sont fauteurs de troubles.' (I am certain that those two men are troublemakers.) Well, at least the disguises worked."

"What do we do now?" I asked as I gathered my hair back into the cap.

"Hopefully catch a ride to Paris."

He became silent. I yawned. The heat seemed to hang in the air, making me feel lethargic. We walked for some time, passing fields of wheat and rye.

"Why are we going to Paris?" I asked, the first question I had asked pertaining to this case since our fight on the boat.

Basil took out a handkerchief and wiped his face. "Let me tell you about Marcus Colhart. He is a blackmailer for the Seven Plagues." I shot him a glance but he held up his hand. "Let me finish. Colhart has a great many agents that are lent out to him to get his information. When-"

"How long has he been a blackmailer?" I interrupted.

Basil sighed in annoyance. "About twelve years, which was two years before his father disinherited him. Now Colhart is a rather well-to-do man. He lives in a villa in Cannes-"

"Cannes?" I cut him off once again. "Oh, sorry."

"No, what is it?" he asked.

I was rather taken aback by this sudden show of tolerance for my questions. "Oh... where is Cannes?"

"It is on the Mediterranean coast."

"If it's on the Mediterranean, then why are we going to Paris?"

"In five days there will be a ball at the Parisian Opera House for European royalty and nobility. I believe the Duchess of Bachenstrauff will be there, which gives Colhart the perfect opportunity to terminate her."

Basil hesitated, as if waiting for me to ask another question, but I was too absorbed in thinking about Colhart's connection to the Seven Plagues. He then continued, "I've read the newspapers. Landon Colhart is apparently still alive. His one manservant was found to have 'committed suicide' after he threw himself off a train traveling to London the night I was supposed to meet Raleigh."

After a slight pause, I asked, "Did the servant leave a suicide note?"

"Yes. Forged, most likely."

"So Colhart is posing as his brother?"

"It would give him the perfect opportunity to get near to the Duchess. If his sister dies but Landon is still alive, then Landon gets her share of the inheritance. Remember, there is a warrant out for Marcus's arrest due to Landon informing the police of his blackmail activities."

"How will you know where Colhart is?"

"He must be at the family manor outside of Paris, where Landon had been living."

"So what's the plan?"

A small smile revealed itself on Basil's lips. "Dawson is never this straightforward. I can't decide whether it is your differences in age, gender, or personality."

"Oh." I could not decide whether he saw straightforwardness as a good or bad thing.

Basil his face towards mine and appeared to study it for a few moments. "What's wrong?" he asked.

"What? What makes you think that something's wrong?"

"I've been around you long enough to know that when something is bothering you. You become unusually quiet."

"I do?"

"Yes."

"Oh," was all I could say.

Basil shook his head, still smiling. "All right Meg, you can be quiet if you want to be."

"So Colhart's involved with Ratigan?" I blurted out.

Basil's features changed into a frown. "Unfortunately yes. But that doesn't mean that Ratigan is involved in this case."

"Oh." We stepped into the shade of some trees. "So what's the plan again?"

"We will go to Paris, find this manor, find evidence against Colhart, and turn him in before he can lay a hand on his sister. But first we need to find Rahle."

I stared long and hard at him. "'We?'"

Basil stared straight ahead, ignoring my gaze. "It's about time you were more involved in my cases. It's much easier to keep track of you when you're not working against me," he said, slowly smiling.

"I've never worked against you!"

Basil laughed. "Never? You've run off with valuable evidence, you didn't tell me when you were sent threatening notes, you snuck off to private kung fu lessons without telling anyone of your whereabouts, and you completely disregarded my orders to not follow Matthew Childres' men when they kidnapped the Flavershams. I can safely say that you're working against me."

"By not cooperating? But it's so much more fun that way!" I said, laughing.

He shook his head in mock disbelief. "You are going to be the death of me someday."

I looked behind us. "Hey, there's a wagon!" I exclaimed. « Messieurs! Vous pouvez nous emmener? » (Give us a ride?)

"Wait until they get closer, Meg," Basil said.

I laughed again, feeling light-hearted and free. It was strange. Basil and I were fugitives in a foreign land. Ratigan wanted him dead and me for his own selfish reasons. Colhart wanted us dead. We had no food, hardly any money and definitely no idea what our futures held. But I was happy, and all because Basil had finally been nice to me.

« Messieurs! Est-ce que je peux vous déposer quelque part? » (Can I give you a lift?) One mouse called from the wagon.

« Oui! Allez-vous à Paris? Basil called out. » (Yes! Are you going to Paris?)

« Oui! »

« Merci beaucoup! »

As we got on the wagon, Basil whispered to me, "Who says that I don't want you around, ma chère?"

My face turned red. He had been awake on the train!

* * *

We walked the slums of Paris, passing little children playing in the gutters as matronly women hung laundry on lines between the houses. Despite our disguises, I had the feeling that every mouse knew we were foreigners. I stayed close to Basil as he led me through the narrow streets.

We turned off into an alley and entered a small wine shop. Casks of wine lined the walls, while a few tables and chairs were positioned beneath them. An older woman stood at the counter, deep in conversation with another middle-aged woman behind the counter. Two more patrons entered the shop behind us.

« Rahle? » Basil asked the woman at the counter.

« Oui. En haut, » (Upstairs) she answered, motioning to a hallway behind her.

« Merci. »

I followed obediently behind him as we went through the narrow hallway, then up two flights of stairs to a single door on the small landing.

Basil knocked on the door. « Allez-vous-en! » (Go away!) a rough male voice yelled in French. « Je suis occupé. » (I am busy.)

Basil tapped his foot impatiently. "You haven't been working all day. I know for a fact that you're lying on a couch smoking a cigar and reading a dime novel."

I heard a thump as something heavy hit the floor, followed by a pair of slow, labored footsteps. These were followed by the sounds of door locks being unbolted and unchained. The door opened a crack and a short mouse with graying fur appeared before us.

"Monsieur Basil!" he cried in a heavy French accent. He pressed the hand that held the cigar to his chest, ash scraping across his blue shirt. "I swear that you are a magician. How did you know all that I was doing?"

Basil took off his disguise. "You know my methods," he said, shouldering his way past the mouse.

I began to follow when the mouse stopped me. "Who is this? No, I take no strangers into my confidence."

I raised my eyebrow at the strange usage of the word. "He's confiding something to us?" I asked Basil. "I thought he was giving us some more disguises."

"Go away, you silly boy!" the strange little mouse snapped at me. Then he turned to Basil. "Monsieur, you want more disguises? Oh, I have just the thing you are looking for!" And he rushed inside.

I pushed the door completely open. My eyes met a flat crowded with crates and chests, wigs, paints, and jars with strange objects with them. I had to climb over a pram and two boxes to get to Basil and the little mouse by the window. The flat was stifling hot.

"Can we open the door?" I asked.

"No!" the little mouse barked at me.

Basil rolled his eyes. "Just ignore him Meg."

"What is it that you are looking for?" the mouse asked eagerly. Basil had just opened his mouth to answer when the little mouse interrupted, "Wait! This just came in yesterday!" He dove into a group of crates and began to rummage through them. "Now where is it? Zut!" the mouse swore in French. I gave Basil a bewildered look.

He shrugged. "Rahle is completely unorthodox, which is what makes him such a master at his trade."

"Like you, I suppose," I smiled, taking off my disguise.

"Ah! Here is it!" Rahle exclaimed, shoving a black housemaid's dress into his arms. "No one will be able to recognize you in it!"

The thought of Basil as a housemaid was so ridiculous that I burst out laughing.

Rahle glared at me. Then he gasped. « Une femme! »

"You couldn't even recognize that she was a woman?" Basil said to him as he handed the dress back to the French mouse. "Rahle, one would say that you were losing your touch."

"But that is why I am such a skilled artist!" Rahle said defensively. "Even I don't recognize the subjects of my work!"

Basil and I raised our eyebrows at this comment. "What are you talking about? She was never one of your 'subjects.'"

"She wasn't? Oh, never mind then." Rahle threw himself into another set of boxes. "Here!" He thrust a kimono at Basil. "Real silk. Three hundred francs at least!"

"Rahle, I'm looking for something specific," Basil said. "Where's that mask I asked you to make for me a few months ago?"

"I almost forgot!" Rahle exclaimed. He shoved aside a couple of boxes that were blocking a door that had three locks on it. Taking out a large set of keys, the French mouse rapidly unlocked each lock. "Follow me!"

There was a flight of stairs leading up to a small attic. It was cooler up here, mainly because there were two wide windows that were letting the air in. There were strange masks in this room, ranging from deformed faces to one of the Queen of England. I stared in amazement at the likeness. "Good thing Ratigan doesn't know about you," I said to Rahle.

"What are you talking about, silly girl! Everyone knows about me!"

"What?" I gave Basil an alarmed look.

Basil folded his arms as Rahle went to the largest safe I had ever seen in my life and began to turn the dial. "Rahle is the best of the best."

"Oh course I am!" Rahle said.

Basil rolled his eyes. "He doesn't care who his clients are, as long as he gets money."

"Ratigan's his CLIENT?"

"One of them," Basil said languidly.

Someone could have pushed me over with a feather. Rahle stamped his foot and swore at the safe because he had forgotten the combination. Basil's eyes were fixed on a sheet-covered lump on a dye-stained wooden table in the corner.

"But what if Ratigan finds out? Can't Rahle get arrested for this? Aren't you concerned for-"

"Meg, calm down. As far as I know, Ratigan is well aware of the fact that I'm one of Rahle's clients. As for getting arrested, I haven't cared to tell the Parisian police because I would lose his skills. That is precisely why Ratigan doesn't care to attack or threaten Rahle for his skills either, because he knows that he is so stubborn that he wouldn't work if he was threatened." Basil edged towards the dye-stained table. He gingerly picked up one corner of the sheet.

"Non! Get away from there, Monsieur Basil!" Rahle slammed his hand down on the cloth. "That is top secret!"

"All right!" Basil said, holding up his hands in defense.

Rahle went back to the safe. I picked up a jar filled with jeweled rings and began to examine it. There was a click as Rahle opened the safe. He pulled out a sheet-covered bundle and placed it on the table.

"Voilà! My masterpiece!" he cried, whipping off the sheet.

I dropped the jar of rings in surprise.

« Petite idiote! » Rahle shrieked as he dove to gather up the rings.

Basil looked up at the ceiling as he pushed over a clay bowl filled with glass eyeballs. They rolled across the floor. "Really Meg, you are unbelievably clumsy today."

I glared at him while Rahle started to scream at me in rapid French. "Sorry! I mean, desole, wait, je suis desolée!" I yelled back as I got on my knees to help him.

As we were busy retrieving eyeballs I saw Basil lift up the sheet on the table and take a good look at Rahle's "top secret" project. I smiled to myself. I had a feeling that whatever was under there was something Rahle was making for Ratigan.

Rahle stood up, red in the face. Words like « petite imbecile » (little imbecile), « les femmes » (women), and « mon travail » (my work) I was able to pick up, but the rest was unintelligible to me.

"I don't like strange persons coming in here and messing up all of my work!"

I ignored him, peering at the object that had shocked me. It was a mask that looked exactly like Basil. "My God," I breathed, slowly extending out a finger to touch it.

"No!" Rahle grabbed me by the shirt and violently pulled me away from the table. "You must never, ever touch it, you accursed girl!"

"You're rude!" I shouted back at him.

Basil started to laugh. We both glared at him. "What's so funny?" we asked in unison.

"Rahle," he said in mid-laugh, "she's going to be wearing that mask!"

* * *

Sarah: I like Rahle. He's strange in a funny way.

_(Meg and JWJ are trying to beat each other up.)_

Meg: Stop pulling my hair!

JWJ: Let go of my ear!

RAEB: We really need to separate those two.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter Six

* * *

Meg: _(holding JWJ in a chokehold)_ Okay, now apologize to all of the Socialists!

JWJ: Why? It's like Communism, and we all know how that turned out!

Meg: It was a good theory.

JWJ: Do you want the world to end up like the book Nineteen Eighty-Four?

Meg: You've never even read that book! You only know what it's about because I read it and told your best friend about it!

JWJ: Well, look at what a dork you are then for reading a stupid book like that anyway!

_(RAEB grabs Meg while Emma grabs JWJ)  
_  
RAEB: Okay, that's it. We've decided that we're going to kick you two out of the author's notes if you ever get into another fistfight.

Meg: You can't do that! These are my stories!

Emma: _(grinning)_ Yeah we can. All we need is a certain rat...

* * *

The next morning Basil and I went back to Rahle's shop, where we found him in a fit of anxiety.

« Où est-il? Non, pas ici. Non! » we heard him mutter from behind the door.

Basil banged impatiently on it for over five minutes before the little French mouse opened it. "I can't find it!" he cried as we pushed our way past him.

"What is it that you're looking for?" I asked.

"Mind your own business!" he snapped at me.

I looked around the room. Costumes had been torn from their respective crates and thrown about the room. If possible, it was in more disarray than we had left it the night before.

As Rahle threw clothes aside Basil said, "Rahle, I want you to practice fitting Meg up. I have business to do."

« Oui, oui, » Rahle said distractedly. Then his head shot towards Basil as realization hit him. "Pardonnez-moi? You're leaving _her_ with _me_?" he said, pointing at me.

"Yes Rahle."

"For how long?" the mouse exclaimed.

"Six hours, maybe eight."

I laughed silently to myself as Rahle exclaimed, « Huit heures! Non, c'est impossible! » (Eight hours! No, it is impossible!)

Basil bowed to me. "I do apologize, Mrs. Havers, for leaving you here."

"Apologize to her? Apologize to me!" Rahle said. "I can't work with her around! She will break everything in the shop!"

"Maybe she can help you find whatever it is you're looking for," Basil said to him. Then he whispered to me, "It's in that rolled-up Persian rug in the corner. Bonne chance," he added as he left.

Rahle glared at me as he relocked the door. "Well, help me find it then!"

I calmly walked over to the Persian rug, reached into it, and pulled out a bottle of wine. "Is this it?"

"Saperlipopette, now there are two Basils!" Rahle said, shaking his head in disbelief. "One is enough." He came over to me and snatched the bottle away. "Give me that."

I started to laugh.

"What is so funny, mademoiselle?"

"Oh, nothing," I said innocently.

« Huit heures! En huit heures, je serai fou de tous les étrangers! » (In eight hours, I will be crazy from all the strangers!) he said in French as he stormed up the attic stairs.

I could not help laughing at Rahle. He was one of the strangest people I had ever met. Basil told me that he did not trust strangers, which was why he kept such a tight security on his projects. "Once he gets to know you he will be more friendly," Basil had said the night before. "But he has an inflated ego, so try to respect his work."

I went up into the attic, only to be chased out by Rahle, who told me that he would "deal with me later." I came back down and looked glumly at the distorted room. I wondered how long I would have to wait for Basil. He had gone to find Lacasa, the Colhart manor.

Rahle came pounding back down the steps. "You there! Help me find my Cleopatra wig!" He disappeared back up the steps.

It took me about forty-five minutes to find it. After I gave it to him, I began to put clothes back in the boxes and somehow straighten up the mess. It gave me something to do.

* * *

Rahle came back down around one o'clock. I had lunch waiting for him on a table. He stopped and stared at the room, his mouth hanging open.

"What did you do?" he demanded.

"You can't find anything in here," I said matter-of-factly. "And I had nothing to do. So I straightened all the costumes and put all the makeup together, and found the mannequin heads for all the wigs."

"But my system! You have ruined it! And what is this!" he said, motioning to the fish and bread on the table.

I smiled. "I thought you might be hungry."

He bit his lip, trying hard not to smile. "For that I forgive you, but just this once," he said, tucking in.

* * *

I went down to the wine shop to get some more wine when I saw Colhart being shoved by two more mice up the stairs. I gasped. One of them was Rafael, Ratigan's henchman! I hurried back the way I had come.

"Rahle!" I gasped as I burst into the room, "You have to hide me!"

"Where is the wine?" he asked.

"No! There's some mice who work for Ratigan on their way up here."

"So?"

"So! If they find me here, they'll take me to Ratigan. And if I get kidnapped, Basil will never buy another thing from you ever again!"

« Mon Dieu! » Rahle jumped up from his chair. "I will hide you in a chest."

"For how long?" I asked. "I'd suffocate! It's hot enough as it is."

There was a loud banging on the door. "Mr. Rahle?"

Rahle ran to the door and locked it. "How about the attic?" I suggested.

"And let you see my top-secret projects? Non!"

"Rahle? Are you there?"

« Donnez-moi une minuit! » (Give me a minute!) he yelled at the door. He shoved me into a room that was more like a closet. A bed, washstand and bureau took up pretty much all of the available space. "Stay here!" he commanded, slamming the door.

I held my ear against the door and listened as Rahle opened the front door. "Who are you?" he snapped.

"We're sent by Professor Ratigan. He wants-"

"I have never seen you before in my life, you strange persons!" Rahle said. I giggled. I guess Basil was right when he said that Rahle did not trust strangers. « Une minute! C'est vous, monsieur? Comment-allez vous? » (One minute! It is you, mister? How are you?)

"Shut up!" the unknown mouse barked. "You are not to speak to him, Rahle."

"I know him! Come in, Monsieur Colhart."

"This isn't Marcus Colhart. This is his brother."

I peered through the keyhole. Landon Colhart was alive? Rahle's back was to me, blocking Rafael and his companions from view. "Why you bring strange persons here?" he asked suspiciously. "I never dealt with his brother."

"Colhart wants you to make a mask that will stay on this mouse's face permanently."

"What, a mask that he cannot take off? You need a doctor for that, not an artist!"

"You can't do it?"

"Of course not!"

"Shit," the mouse snapped.

Rafael said, "All right, Ratigan wants-"

"I never see you before!" Rahle repeated.

There was a rustling of paper. "There," Rafael said. "Do you believe that Ratigan sent me now?"

"Fine. Come in, and do not touch a thing!"

I saw Rafael roughly push Colhart into the room, but I only caught a glimpse of him as he passed. The other one walked in behind them.

I heard something that sounded like metal clink on wood. "What are you doing?"

"This one's a troublemaker. I just have to keep him like this for awhile," the other mouse said.

Rahle's tone of voice was sharp. "Then don't bring your troublemakers with you when you want my service!"

"All right!"

"What does the professeur want?" Rahle asked.

"Look at this photograph. He wants a wig that looks like this," Rafael said.

"This? The one of the girl?"

"Do you have a wig like that?"

"Oui, but it has just been sold."

"What! Who bought it?"

"None of your business, you ridiculous English-type!"

There was a long pause. "How long will it take you to make another wig like it?"

I heard Rahle mutter to himself. "Give me one week!"

"One week? Ratigan wants it in four days."

"Six days."

"Four."

"Six! I charge less for the professeur."

"Fine. Whatever."

"Now leave!" Rahle said.

"Ratigan also wants to know if his mask is done yet."

"I was working on it when you persons interrupted me!"

"So it's not done?"

"No! Come back tomorrow!"

"Let's go Charlie," Rafael said. The click of metal was heard again. "Have it ready tomorrow!"

Rahle swore to himself as he locked the door behind the three mice.

I timidly opened the bedroom door. Rahle noticed me and widened his eyes as he approached me. He grabbed a handful of my hair. "I give you, mademoiselle, fifty francs for the hair."

"I kind of like it the way it is, Rahle."

"No! Much better shorter."

I pulled out of his grasp and sat on the couch. "No."

He sighed, clearly disappointed. Then he said, "You tell Monsieur Basil about the idiots who come today, and I tell those same idiots about you and Monsieur Basil being here."

"Deal," I said indifferently with every intention of breaking that promise as soon as Basil came back. He had to know that Landon was still alive.

"Fine. Now I turn you into Monsieur Basil, no?"

_Finally_ I thought to myself as Rahle ran upstairs to get the mask. I then saw a photograph that had not been on the floor before. It was a photograph of Ratigan and I, taken when he had kidnapped me the first time. I grabbed a fistful of my hair and, with a sick feeling in my stomach, understood why Rahle had asked me for it.

* * *

Leigh: Why does Ratigan want a wig that looks like Meg's hair?

Meg: If I answered that, I'd ruin the story. Wait, I don't think I'm going to answer that at all. Just assume what you want to about that.

Leigh: _(smacks Meg)_ You moron!

Sarah: Je sais, je sais. And Rafael and Charles tried getting a permanent mask on Landon? What are you trying to do, remake "The Man in the Iron Mask?"

Meg: NON! Sarah, Leigh, et JWJ: Fermez les bouches!

Sarah: _(aside, to Meg)_ JWJ didn't say anything.

Meg: _(aside, to Sarah)_ He still needs to shut his mouth.

JWJ: Hey, did you just SWEAR at me?

Sarah: _(grinning evilly)_ Maybe she did.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter Seven

* * *

Basil came back early that evening. "The Colhart Manor is only three miles away from Paris," he said. "I had to dodge a bunch of his agents on my way back. They're posted everywhere."

I looked at my face in the mirror. I lightly touched the mask on my face, thinking that I could have passed off as Basil's identical twin. It was a scary thought.

I had explained to Basil in private about Rahle's meeting with Rafael. Basil had hardly seemed surprised at the fact that Landon was still alive. "Maybe Marcus isn't as cold-hearted as we gave him credit for," was all he had said.

When I told him about Ratigan's request for the wig, however, I got a completely different reaction. "Why would he want a wig that looked like your hair?" he had asked. "It doesn't make much sense unless he had kidnapped you again."

"How?"

"Never mind."

I paced the room deep in thought. Basil was behind a screen, putting on his disguise. He tried to explain the plan to me as Rahle assisted him.

"It presents the element of surprise," he said. "We break into the manor. You will be dressed as me. You are to distract them by getting them to come after you. They probably won't shoot."

"How do you know that?"

"I overheard one of them say today that we were to be taken alive," Basil said. "While you have them distracted, I find the evidence needed to bring Colhart to justice."

"And what's your disguise?"

"Come here and see."

I pulled back the screen. A woman with long brown hair stood before me. Everything, from her high cheekbones to the wedding ring on her finger had been accounted for. It was...

"Me?" I asked weakly.

He smiled at me. All I could recognize of the detective were his jade-colored eyes.

"Well, we can't have two Basils now, can we?"

* * *

Lizz: Why are they switching places?

Leigh: What, are you trying to follow some stupid twin theme or something?

Meg: I thought that you of all people would enjoy that type of theme!

JWJ: Sheesh Meg, even your own twin goes against you!


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter Eight

* * *

Lizz: _(holding up a newspaper__) _Meg, I think you should read this.

Meg: _(reading)_ 'First National in Oahu Robbed.' So?

Lizz: Who's in Hawaii right now?

Meg: Ratigan! _(smacks head)_ Doy!

Lizz: Don't hit yourself.

Meg: He's on vacation! He's not supposed to be doing his job!

Lizz: We should call the police.

Meg: What, and tell then that a very huge rat from the nineteenth century robbed a bank? Who'd believe us?

Lizz: Good point. Okay, never mind then.

* * *

The moon shone brightly as Basil lifted me up into a first-floor window of the Colhart Manor. I then reached down and pulled him up. "Now, there's a study on the second floor next to the library. Go in there and start rummaging through the desk. If no one comes up in five minutes, then knock something over and move to another room. You'll run into someone eventually."

"And what will you do?" I asked.

"I'm going to find Landon. Once I find him, I'll blow this whistle-" he said, holding it up, "-and you're to meet me in the stables. Colhart has one of those automobiles; we'll take that into Paris."

"This can go wrong in so many ways," I said quietly. "Oh well, you're the boss. What if I find Landon first?"

"Just leave him if you can help it," Basil said. "You're more likely to get caught if you do help him."

"All right."

* * *

Colhart stood alone on the back balcony, looking out over the family grounds he had not seen in years.

"You wanted to see me?" a voice said behind him.

Colhart turned around to find Charlie, the mouse who had been at Rahle's earlier that day.

"Yes. Rahle couldn't make a mask for my brother?"

"No."

Colhart sighed. "I thought as much."

"What are you going to do now?"

There was the sound of breaking glass from the study. "What the hell was that?" Colhart exclaimed. He darted inside, followed by Charlie.

Another henchman joined them as they rushed into the study, the source of the noise. They halted when they saw Basil of Baker Street standing behind a desk, a broken vase at his feet.

"You!" Colhart barked.

Basil grinned. "Adieu fellas," he said, taking off across the room and out the door.

Colhart grabbed Charlie by the collar. "Get every man here. I'll have that detective no matter what the cost!"

* * *

The real Basil searched a safe in the master bedroom, where he had found correspondences about the planned assassination. He placed the correspondences back into the safe and continued his search for Landon.

He came out into the hallway, but darted back in when some of Colhart's men ran by. He waited until their footsteps had receded, then went back into the hallway. He picked up the skirts of the dress he was wearing and ran in the opposite direction.

He halted at another door and opened it, only to run into Rafael. "Well hello there, missy," the thug leered.

Basil slugged him in the face and took off.

* * *

I, meanwhile, threw myself through the nearest door and locked the door behind me before Colhart's men could get in. I was in a large bedroom covered in shades of pink and red.

There was a rattling from the closet door, and I heard a voice crying, "Help me!"

* * *

"Help me!" a voice cried out to Basil, who was surrounded by racks of wine.

His ears perked up, searching for the source of the noise. He went over to a cellar door and picked the lock. Within a few minutes the door was open and Landon Colhart stumbled out.

"Come on, I'm here to set you free!" the detective said, grabbing the mouse's arm.

* * *

The door opened with a key I found in a desk drawer. Landon Colhart lay on the ground, underneath dresses and amidst women's shoes. I produced a small knife from Basil's pocket and untied his bonds. "We have to get you out of here!"

Landon stood up as I put the knife away. I turned to the window. "Now, I think we can climb down here if we-"

Colhart shoved the point of a gun into my skull. "Game's up, Mr. Basil."

Just then I heard the long shrill of Basil's whistle.

* * *

Basil and Landon burst into the ballroom just as Colhart and his men entered the other side. "This is just too easy," Colhart smirked. "First I get Basil of Baker Street, and now the girl."

"Basil?" Basil gaped.

Colhart stepped aside, revealing Meg. "Get out of here!" she screamed. "Go!"

"Give yourself up now girl, and I will spare his life. Make it difficult, and..." Colhart pretended to shoot her. "Goodbye detective."

Basil looked at Landon. Landon looked at him with blank eyes. "My sister," he said softly.

Basil bit his lip as he stared at the mirror image of himself, knowing that Meg was beneath that mask and those clothes. He knew that they would find out eventually that she was not Basil of Baker Street, and he could not leave her to face Ratigan alone. If he escaped now, however, it might be easier to save her, and the Duchess of Bachenstrauff.

Meg shook her head, signaling nonverbally for him to run away. He turned to Landon. "I cannot go," he whispered. He slowly walked towards Colhart and his henchmen.

Landon turned around and bolted for the door. A shot rang out, and Landon fell, grasping his leg, his face scrunched up in pain. Colhart ran towards his brother as two of his henchmen grabbed the real detective. Meg stared open-mouthed, incredulous at Basil's actions.

* * *

Leigh: Meg! I can't believe you!

Meg: What'd I do this time?

Leigh: Identical twins do not necessarily have to look alike!

Meg: Yeah, well you and I look so different, yet no one seems to be able to remember who's who.

Leigh: _(to audience)_ We're identical twins. Really.

Meg: Except I'm better looking.

Leigh: Yeah sure, IDENTICAL TWIN!

Sarah: So let me get this straight... you want Meg to mix up the twins?

Meg: Why not? Everyone else can't seem to figure out twins either.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter Nine

* * *

_(Meg walks in, finds JWJ at the computer)  
_  
Meg: What are you doing?

JWJ: Hacking into the Democrats' files.

Meg: Why?

JWJ: So I can change all of their opinions on certain topics.

Meg: So they can lose the election?

JWJ: Exactly!

Meg: That's illegal.

JWJ: Not if it's helping the Republicans.

Meg: _(groans)_ I think I have a migraine. _(Walks out of room)

* * *

_

Charles and a mouse named Guy threw me into a small room in the wine cellar. I immediately ran to the door as the lock clicked into place. I jiggled the doorknob, but it did not budge.

My eyes traveled around the dusty room, falling upon a small barred window near the ceiling. I jumped up to reach it, but without luck. The moon cast its pale light on the floor of the cell.

I slid to the floor and stared glumly at the window, my hands rising to the mask on my face. I would continue to play Basil for as long as possible. Eventually Ratigan would come, and the game would chance completely. He would know that I was not Basil, and Basil was not me. I wondered why Basil had let himself be captured. He had had Landon; he could have easily escaped and warned the Duchess.

I could have cursed myself for twenty different kinds of an idiot for not recognizing that Marcus had posed as Landon. And now, because of that, Basil and I were both captured, the Duchess was going to die, and Basil probably was going to die too.

"Meg, how do you get yourself in trouble like this?" I muttered darkly to myself as I took off the Inverness and deerstalker. "Really, what good are you?"

* * *

Basil had been locked in a small servants' room in the manor. "Well, I suppose this makes me the 'damsel in distress' Basil said lightly to himself, looking at his reflection in the mirror. The disguise was still perfectly intact. It was a definite advantage to have them think that they had the real Basil of Baker Street locked up in some vault in the cellar.

His thoughts drifted to Meg. He wondered what had become of her, and if Colhart's men had roughhoused her.

He began to pace the room, going over all he had observed of the manor to determine the best escape plan. He knew the game would be up as soon as Ratigan came. He was sure Ratigan would come. But how much time did they have until then?

* * *

A doctor finished plastering a cast on Landon's leg when Marcus Colhart stepped into his brother's bedroom. He dismissed Guy and Rafael, the latter's eye the size of a baseball from the punch he had received from Basil earlier.

"How's the leg?" Marcus asked his brother in English.

"I'll probably walk on it again, no thanks to you," Landon muttered.

"Listen, I'm sorry," Marcus said. "I had to. If you had gotten away you would have ruined my plan."

"You mean the plot to kill our own sister?"

Marcus folded his arms and stared out the open window. The doctor said something in French, but Marcus waved him out of the room. "You know how much she despises me," he finally said when the doctor had left. "And she's married to Frederick. He's filthy rich. What does she need money for?"

"Then why kill her?"

"Because I don't care whether she lives or dies."

"Why are you sparing me?" Landon asked. "Why not kill me too?"

Marcus looked at the floor. "Ever since we were boys you have been by closest companion. You were the only one who didn't turn his back on me."

"What a fool I was! I knew even more than our Father did about your involvement with these crimelords. Perhaps if I had abandoned you like everyone else did you would have seen the error of your ways."

"I saw the error of my ways a long time ago. I saw Father and Celeste and Mother for who they really were. What have they ever done for me? When were they ever there for me?"

Landon sighed. "You're impossible! You think that you're always right!"

"When it concerns this family I am!"

"No you're not! You're being ridiculous!"

Marcus slugged his brother in the face, knocking him to the ground. "Don't even try, Lannie. You're sick and weak."

Landon hobbled up on his one good leg. After he had balanced himself, he threw himself at Marcus and tackled him to the ground.

For a few minutes they bit and tore and hit each other. Eventually Marcus arose the victor.

"You fool," he spat.

The other Colhart glared at his twin. "One of these days..."

* * *

I yawned, bored out of my mind. The sun had shifted positions throughout the day, but I guessed it was high overhead, perhaps around noon. It felt as if I had been stuck in this cell for days. I was thirsty and hungry and weary. No one had come into the room since the night before, and I wondered if Colhart and his men had forgotten about me.

As I rolled up the Inverness to use as a pillow I felt a few objects within it. I reached into one of its pockets and pulled out his field lenses. Then I decided to go through the pockets of Basil's Inverness to occupy me. I had wanted to do this earlier, but respect for Basil and a fear of him noticing that I had gone through his things had prevented me. At this point I was too bored to care. Besides, there could be something useful for me within the pockets.

Colhart's men had gone through the pockets before, but they had only removed anything that looked like a weapon. As I went through them I discovered his pocketbook, his high-powered lenses, a map of Casablanca, a ball of string, a woman's hairpin, a pair of glasses (which surprised me; Basil doesn't wear glasses, and they were even too small for me,) a container of shoe polish and a letter.

I looked at the letter in surprise. It said "M. Basil" in sloppy writing on the front. I paused; considering opening it. I finally decided to leave it alone.

Instead, I took the woman's hairpin and attempted to pick the lock of the cell door. Within a minute I gave up; the lock was too big.

Then I took the high powered-lenses and the pocketbook and amused myself in enlarging the golden writing on the leather-covered pocketbook that read "S. Basil." I had done this a few times before when I worked as a maid for Basil when I was seventeen. Two years later, it seemed extremely juvenile. But I felt that I had to occupy myself with some task to keep my mind off of the present situation.

I was still fooling around with the lenses when I heard the sound of the key in the lock. I jumped to my feet in a panic as Colhart entered the room.

He stared curiously at the objects spread around my feet. "Busy, aren't we, Mr. Basil?" Colhart said with an amused smile.

I racked my brain for the perfect response. _What would Basil say in this situation?_

I smiled. It was a fake smile, but I was hoping that Colhart would not notice that. "Well, Mr. Colhart." I felt my face grow hot. It was a lucky thing I had my mask on. _You idiot, that's not the perfect response!_ I thought angrily to myself.

"That was a brilliant trick back there, Basil. Mixing me up for Landon."

"Pure luck."

Colhart laughed. "Ratigan's going to love this."

"What do you get out of this deal with Ratigan?" I asked.

Colhart grinned. "I have already been rewarded. I have you and Miss Sarentis."

"Havers," I said without thinking.

"Ratigan doesn't refer to her by that name," he shot back.

_Good for Ratigan_, I thought angrily. To Colhart I said, "So that is all you got out of this deal? Me and Bas- erm, Mrs. Havers?"

"That's all I need. You are the only two against me who know of the plan."

"Are we, now?" I said mischievously.

I saw panic flash through Colhart's face. I had a feeling that he had been afraid of that all along. I folded my arms, my fake smile slowly changing into a real one. This was very funny, but I was not going to blow my cover by laughing.

"Who would you have told?" Colhart said, trying to sound confident.

"True. Who would I have told?" I said, pretending to ponder that thought.

Colhart grabbed me by the throat and shoved me up against the wall. I choked, then drew up my legs and kicked him away from me. Seeing this as my only opportunity to escape, I jumped him.

We wrestled on the ground, and I managed to knock Colhart out, only to be grabbed by two of his henchmen and beaten into submission myself.

They carried Colhart out of the room and bolted the door behind them.

I groaned. _Poor Basil...Does he always have to go through this whenever he's captured?

* * *

_

_(RAEB comes in reading newspaper)_

RAEB: Hey, someone stole a valuable jewel from the Museum of Artifacts in New Delhi.

Meg: Ratigan!

RAEB: I thought he was in Hawaii.

_(Lizz comes in with a postcard with a picture of the Taj Mahal on it)_

Lizz: Looks like our good friend Ratigan sent another postcard to JWJ. I think he's giving JWJ hacking tips.

Meg: Oh brother.

RAEB: Is that postcard from... India?

Lizz: Yeah, it is.

RAEB: Lizz! Look! _(Shoves newspaper in her face)  
_  
Lizz: New Delhi?

RAEB: It's in India!

Lizz: Oh. Wait, you're not suggesting that Ratigan did this?

RAEB: Umm, YEAH!

Meg: Could we get arrested for being associated with him?

_(Silence)_

RAEB: _(smacks Meg)_ Why'd you have to bring that up?


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter Ten

* * *

JWJ: _(on cell phone)_ Okay, how do I figure out passwords again?

Ratigan: _(on other line)_ Think logically. Sports teams have certain mascots and colors that distinguish them from their opponents. Organizations have symbols that distinguish them from other organizations. Passwords of such organizations usually deal with those symbols, or people that stand out in the organization.

_(Meg walks in, unbeknownst to JWJ.)_

JWJ: So how do I go about with this password thing?

Ratigan: What are the Democrats known for?

JWJ: John Kerry.

Ratigan: That's too obvious.

JWJ: Okay... abortion?

Ratigan: _(impatiently)_ No.

JWJ: Welfare?

Ratigan: No!

JWJ: FDR? JFK?

Ratigan: Better. Try a symbol.

JWJ: Okay, the Democrats' symbol is the donkey, so their password obviously has to be jack-

Meg: JWJ!

JWJ: _(seeing Meg) _What are you doing?

Meg: What am I doing? What are you doing!

JWJ: Making sure that democracy lives on.

Meg: JWJ, no one cares about the stupid elections!

Ratigan: Is that Meg? Stay out of this, you insolent girl.

Meg: _(grabs phone)_ I don't know why you care so much about the stupid elections either, Professor. You're not American.

Ratigan: I have my reasons.

Meg: Such as?

Ratigan: Put Mr. Jordan back on the phone.

Meg: No!

Ratigan: _(sighs)_ Very well. _(Click)_

Meg: He... hung up? That's it? He didn't threaten me for once?

* * *

Basil had the papers from the safe spread out on the bed, looking at the few details of the murder plan he could gather from them. Unlike Meg, he had not been searched.

He bit his lips, an escape plan already formulating in his mind.

Basil's ears perked up at the sound of a key in the lock. He quickly shoved all of the papers into his corset. He pretended to be staring out of the window as two henchmen came into the room.

"Monsieur Colhart will see you now," one of them said.

The other one was Rafael, who was sporting a black eye. He dug his fingers into Basil's arm in a vice-like grip. "C'mon missy," he snarled.

Basil guessed that he was angry with a girl punching him in the face.

A few minutes later the detective found himself in the study. Colhart turned to him. He looked rather beat-up, as if he had been in a fight. "Well, good evening mademoiselle," he said disarmingly. He poured himself some brandy.

Basil narrowed his eyes, wondering if Colhart had spoken to Meg yet. He answered in a high-pitched voice, "Please, let Basil go. He's not the one that Ratigan wants."

Colhart smirked. "Ratigan wants him all right. You can bet yourself that." He drank the brandy in one swallow.

"Mr. Colhart, what are you getting out of this?"

Colhart spit out the brandy. Coughing, he stared at Basil, almost in terror. When he had ceased to cough, he started to laugh. "Your detective friend asked me the same question earlier."

"You've talked to Basil?" Basil said uneasily.

"Yes. The fool tried to escape. But I got him all right," he bragged. "He couldn't even walk when I was through with him."

Basil had to hold back a laugh; he saw that Colhart was lying through his teeth. Instead he flew at Colhart, yelling, "How dare you!" He allowed the blackmailer to easily restrain him.

"Oh, no you don't." He pushed Basil back.

"What is going to happen to him?"

"Well, when Ratigan's through with him..." Colhart started to laugh again. Basil saw a letter opener on the desk. He slowly began to edge towards it. Instead Colhart steered Basil into an armchair. "Now, you can make it easier for Basil. Tell me who else knows about my plan."

"Only Basil and I."

"You don't seem to understand me, Miss Sarentis. I know that others know. Just give me their names, and I will let Basil go."

"What about Ratigan? He wants Basil."

"He wants you more," Colhart smiled broadly.

Basil could not believe it. Colhart seemed to have no idea how to question someone. He either held Meg for a complete idiot, or was a complete idiot himself. Colhart was being too direct in his questioning; not to mention the fact that he was a bad liar, especially for a blackmailer.

"But we never told anyone else about the plan," said Basil.

"Oh, come on. There has to be someone else who knows about the plan."

"No one. Honestly."

Just then there was a knock on the door. A decrepit old man entered the room who appeared to be a butler. "Sir, there is a gentleman here to see you."

Colhart glanced at Basil. Then he said, "Bring Guy and Miche here first." When the butler left, Colhart said, "We will continue this conversation later, mademoiselle."

Five minutes later, Basil was back in his room, twirling the letter opener between his fingers.

* * *

Meg: Yes, this was a very short chapter. I wanted to make it longer, but I was starting to get really uncomfortable with the idea of Basil in a dress...

Emma: Ew! You're promoting cross-dressing!

Meg: Come on, Sherlock Holmes himself dressed as women from time to time.

Emma: Yeah, older women. But Basil is passing himself off as a nineteen-year-old!

Meg: Lizz help me!

Lizz: I think it's funny.

Meg: You're no help! _(Storms away)_


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter Eleven

* * *

_(Emma walks in, sees JWJ still on computer)  
_  
Emma: Are you still plotting?

JWJ: Hold on Professor. _(To Emma)_ Yes. Now go away.

Emma: MEG!

JWJ: She won't come.

Emma: How do you know that?

JWJ: I locked her in a closet.

Emma: JWJ! LIZZ, RAEB! LEIGH! SARAH! HELP ME FIND MEG! _(runs out)

* * *

_

Basil heard the snores of the two mice guarding his door. He picked the lock and cautiously opened the door. The two guards had been drinking, and were passed out on the floor. Basil held up his skirt and gingerly stepped over the henchmen. Then he went down the hallway.

* * *

Since the detective had been locked in his cell in the wine cellar, Landon had been incarcerated in the pantry. His leg was in a large cast, preventing him from moving around much to escape anyway.

He jumped as the pantry door opened. He grew sick with dread as a dark figure appeared against the moonlight from the kitchen windows.

"Landon Colhart?" the figure whispered.

Landon peered into the darkness. It was the girl!

"Mademoiselle? The detective's friend?"

Basil slipped into the pantry and closed the door behind him. "Colhart, I don't have much time."

"Then let's get out of here!"

"We will," Basil said. "Soon."

"What do you mean 'soon?' Let's go now!" Landon got up and hobbled to the door.

"Colhart, wait!" Basil got in between him and the door.

"Out of my way! I have never hit a woman before, but one can always make exceptions."

"Colhart, this is Basil of Baker Street!" Basil said as loudly as possible, so Colhart could hear his normal voice.

"What?" Landon said, surprised.

"It's too dark in here to show you, but-" Basil took off the wig and handed it to Landon.

Landon ran his hands over the wig. "Then who's the guy in the wine cellar?"

"That is Meg Havers."

Landon thrust the wig back at Basil. "I don't understand."

"I will explain later. But first I need your help."

"My help?" Landon repeated in disbelief. "Monsieur Basil, in case you haven't noticed, I am pretty, well…" he gestured at his broken leg, "…useless."

Basil shook his head. "I hardly need manpower. I need some information. Do you know your brother's plans, like how he is going to kill your sister the Duchess?"

Landon drew in his breath. "I... ah... don't quite have that information."

"What do you mean?" Basil asked slowly.

Colhart lost his temper. "Listen detective, Marcus didn't make me privy to his little plan."

"Very well," Basil said. "Can you tell me anything that you do know about the plan?"

Landon hesitated. "Well..." he began cautiously, "the ball is at the Opera House tomorrow. Marcus was going to go into Paris early tomorrow and prepare for the ball at his flat in town. He was going with about a dozen of his lackeys; Guy, Miche, Charles, Jean-Paul, Napier, and some others."

"How many men does he have?"

"Vingt, twenty."

"That leaves eight here... that cannot be too hard."

"Don't forget the servants. He dismissed most of them when he got here, but kept the butler Frederick and his son, the cook and her assistant, and the coachman and his wife."

"Are they in support of Marcus?"

"I don't believe that the coachman and his wife are. But Frederick is definitely against me now; so is his son. Adèle, the cook, visits me and gives me decent meals. I believe that she would ally herself with us."

"Excellent. What about Mrs. Havers? Where is she?"

"Marcus keeps your double in a small storage room off to the stairwell to the wine cellar."

"How many mice guard her?"

"I don't know that," Landon said. "I would assume that it would be several, just to make sure that the famous 'Basil of Baker Street' doesn't escape."

"Good. One more question before I go."

"Yes?"

"How does one tell the difference between you and your brother?"

Landon gave a short chuckle. He then pulled back the sleeve of his right arm. "It's too dark to see. But on my right arm, just below my elbow, I have a birthmark, a dark blot against my fur. Marcus doesn't have one."

* * *

I paced the small cell, back and forth, back and forth. The sun was already starting to heat my prison, and the mask I was wearing did not help matters.

I knew that Marcus Colhart had left the manor earlier in the morning to prepare for the murder of his sister. There was no obvious way out of the cell, and with no way to know what Basil was doing or where he was, there appeared to be no hope for the Duchess.

I wrung my hands in frustration, trying to think of a plan...

* * *

Four floors above me, Basil was implementing his plan.

He heard the footsteps of one henchman on the stairs, coming to bring him lunch. Basil watched the mouse set the tray down on a table. Then he came up behind him and gripped him behind the neck, cutting off the blood flow to his brain. Within half a minute the mouse had passed out. Basil took the mouse's keys and clothes, and then locked the unconscious henchman in the tower.

Basil quickly changed his clothes before making his way to the kitchen.

The cook glared at the detective as he made his way to the pantry. He unlocked the door and opened it.

Landon shielded his eyes from the sudden burst of light. "Can't you ever leave me alone?" he murmured, sounding annoyed.

Basil pulled out the fake wig that he had been hiding under his shirt. "Recognize a friend," he said in a low voice.

"Monsieur Basil!"

"Quiet," he said. "Where are the keys to your automobile?"

"In the stables, on a hook."

"Good. We must hurry."

* * *

I snapped my fingers as an idea came to mind. Dawson had once showed me a trick with Basil's high-powered lenses, so I decided to give it a try.

I pulled out the letter addressed to Basil and put it on the floor in the sunlight. I hesitated; then picked it back up and opened it.

It read:

_M. Basil,_

_Take care of the young lady. She has beautiful hair._

_M. Rahle_

_  
_A sort of fluttery emotion grew inside me. Rahle? He told Basil to take care of me? I touched the mask where my hair would normally be. I wondered if the second sentence in the letter was hinting at the fact that Ratigan wanted a wig that looked like my hair.

I shook my head and sighed. Placing the letter back on the floor, I held the lenses over it, creating a bright circle over it. Nothing happened at first. After a few minutes some smoke started to rise from the paper.

* * *

Basil went down the stairs to the wine cellar, holding a hefty cane. Halfway down he found two guards in front of the cell door.

"Who are you?" one of them demanded.

"I'm one of Professor Ratigan's men," Basil growled.

"Why didn't you come with Rafael and the others then?" the other guard said.

"I was doing other things for the Professor. Now, he wants to make sure that the detective is well guarded until his arrival. I'm here to relieve one of you."

"Hold on one minute," the first guard snarled suspiciously. "We take orders from Colhart."

"Well, Colhart isn't here now, is he?" Basil retorted.

There was a long pause, until finally the second guard said, "I've been on this stupid guard duty for both Basil and Sarentis too many times, and I'm sick of it. Fine, if Ratigan wants you to guard, then you guard." He brushed past Basil on up the stairs.

The other guard glared at Basil. "If anything happens, it's your fault."

Basil grinned, and gripping the handle of a cane, knocked the guard out cold.

He noticed smoke coming from under the door of the cell. Grabbing the keys, he hurried to unlock it.

* * *

I heard the sound of the door unlocking. The trick had worked!

As the guard came in through the door, I gave him a blow to the back of the head and shoved my way past him. I started to run up the stairs until I discovered the second guard unconscious on the floor. Feeling like I was missing something, I turned back to the cell and the guard I had attacked, who was staggering to his feet. He looked up at me.

I almost cried out when I saw the familiar face. "Basil? Basil!" I threw my arms around him. "You're all right!"

Basil stumbled backwards, his head spinning from the blow. "Megana, why did you have to pick that moment to practice your kung fu?" he moaned, rubbing his head.

"Oh..." my face flushed. "Sorry?"

"Never mind. We have to get out of here!"

I helped Basil get up the stairs, and then we made a mad dash for the stables. Landon was already starting up the engine.

"An... automobile. Uh... nice," I said uneasily.

Basil jumped into the driver's seat, wincing at the pain in his head. "Get in."

"I... erm... now?"

"Yes, now!"

I got into the back seat. "Is this safe?"

"Of course." Basil hit the gas pedal. We lurched forward.

"Easy!" Landon exclaimed.

The noise had attracted the attention of the remaining thugs. They raced out of the house and made for the automobile.

"All right, the time to go would be about now," Landon said slowly.

Basil responded by flooring the gas pedal. We were thrown back in our seats as we fled Lacasa.

"Don't drive so fast!" Colhart screamed over the roar of the engine.

Dust from the road was starting to get into Basil's eyes. It was becoming more difficult to see. He began to steer the automobile all over the road as he tried to clear his eyes. Landon handed him a pair of goggles, but that action caused him to steer us completely off the road. Landon grabbed the wheel and took us back onto the road.

"Basil, have you ever driven an automobile before?" I shrieked.

"First time for everything!" Basil responded.

"_What?_" Landon and I screamed in unison.

_Our Father, who art in heaven..._ I began to pray mentally as Basil drove into a field of wheat. The stalks hit us unmercifully as he weaved through them. Finally we made it through the field and swerved back onto a road.

The gates of Paris soon came into sight. We flew through those too, Basil narrowly missing a few pedestrians and carts. We finally made it to a stop in front of a tailor's shop.

Landon and I sat back and breathed a sigh of relief. Basil, however, seemed to be completely exhilarated. "Amazing," he said in awe. "What a thrill!" He looked back at me. "Don't you agree?"

I pulled off the mask that I had worn for so long, glaring daggers at him. Basil looked to Landon, who was staring at him in disbelief.

"Right..." Basil said slowly. He turned to me. "Were you mistreated by Colhart?" he said.

"I haven't eaten in two days."

"Let's get you something to eat…" he began. He moved his hand to the ignition, about to restart the automobile.

"NO!" Landon and I shouted, throwing ourselves at him for the keys.

* * *

Sarah: Basil... driving? _(laughs)_

RAEB: And he stinks!

Leigh: Like Meg!

Meg: I do not stink at driving! I got a perfect on my test!

Leigh: Yeah, sure. You had an easy instructor and you already knew the course.

Meg: STOP PICKING ON ME!

Lizz: Hey, do you want to hear about how my car got a dent in it the other day?

Meg: And they call me the bad driver.


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter Twelve

* * *

Meg: I've decided, after a stroke of genius and inspiration, to add why Ratigan wanted a wig of Meg's hair.

Leigh: You moron! You told me you weren't going to do that!

Meg: I changed my mind?

* * *

That afternoon at the Paris Opera House, Colhart knocked on the dressing room door of prima donna Claire Prenessant. Rahle followed close behind him, carrying a bundle.

"Who is it?" a female voice asked.

"Doctor Raleigh is here to see Mademoiselle Prenessant," Colhart said suavely.

"Come in," she said.

Colhart came into the room. The young prima donna sat at her dressing table, looking at herself in the mirror. When she saw his reflection in the mirror she arose, turned around and came over to him.

"Doctor, I am not feeling well today. I do not think I will be fit to attend the ball tonight at all."

"Such a pity, mademoiselle," Colhart said, kissing her hand. "The royals of Europe will surely miss your lovely voice."

Rahle observed the whole scene in complete annoyance. "Where is the professeur?" he snapped impatiently.

"Rahle, how nice to see you again," said Ratigan, appearing from behind a full length mirror.

"Professeur Ratigan! I have what you asked for." Rahle presented the small bundle.

Ratigan unwrapped it, producing dark brown tresses. "Perfect," he said to himself, his eyes glinting. He then turned to Claire. "Mademoiselle," he bowed, offering her the wig.

She took it and, walking back to the vanity, she sat down and placed it on her head, hiding her blonde locks beneath it. Rahle followed Colhart and Ratigan as they surrounded her.

Colhart grinned. "She looks just like her."

"Yes..." Ratigan gripped her shoulder, and producing a photograph, placed it against the mirror. "An almost exact likeness."

Claire looked from her reflection in the mirror to the photograph. She slowly moved her hand over Ratigan's. The professor quickly withdrew it and turned to Colhart.

"Basil and Miss Sarentis are still in your custody?"

"Of course."

"Excellent. Expect me at your manor after the ball." He then turned to Rahle. "Come back here this evening, before eight. Claire will have the money."

Rahle frowned. "I was told I was going to get it now."

"Have I ever failed to pay before?" Ratigan asked, a smug grin spreading across his features.

"No. But too many strangers. I don't trust her," he said, pointing to the prima donna.

Claire opened her mouth in shock and anger. "Why you little-"

"She will have the money," Ratigan interrupted, his grin turning into a frown.

"She had better. If not, expect no more business from me," Rahle announced, storming out of the room.

"What's wrong with him today?" Colhart muttered. "He's never that temperamental to regular clients."

Claire turned to Ratigan. "Why did you let him say such outlandish lies about me?" she demanded.

"No one here doubts your loyalty Claire," the rat said offhandedly, lighting a cigarette.

"You should have defended me!" she exclaimed.

Ratigan took a puff from his cigarette and turned away.

"Fine!" she snapped. "I am not going through with the plan! You can get your bitch some other way."

Ratigan's eyes flickered, and he turned back around. "Claire..." he warned.

"You have never cared about me the same way you have cared about that bitch!" she screamed, pointing to the photograph on the vanity. "And she doesn't even love you! Is that what you want, James? A wench who will never love you?"

Ratigan grabbed Claire by the shoulders and threw her to the ground. She scrambled to her feet. He pinned her against the wall.

"You will treat Rahle as if he were one of my agents. You will wear that wig tonight, and you will kill the Duchess of Bachenstrauff. If you don't..." Ratigan leaned in close, slowly tracing her neck with one gloved finger, "I will personally tear out your vocal chords and make sure that you never sing again."

* * *

Basil bent over me, applying a thin layer of makeup to my face. "Just enough so Colhart won't recognize you at a glance," he said as he worked. "Now, stay on the lookout for Ratigan too. I have a hunch that he will make an appearance."

We sat in a storage room in the Paris Opera House. Landon had taken sanctuary in Notre Dame, hidden by a priest who was a childhood friend. Music drifted from the entrance hall of the Opera House, where guests had been arriving for the last hour.

Basil and I had both stolen clothes from the many costumes that belonged to the Opera House. He had on a tux. I wore a light, plain pink dress.

"What if we are recognized?" I asked.

"Run like hell."

"That's it?"

The detective shrugged as he closed the makeup case. "I doubt Colhart will draw so much attention to himself by running after us himself, but he may send his lackeys after us."

I looked at myself in the mirror. "I hope you know what you're doing."

Basil rose, and then helped me to my feet. "That's about it. Let's go."

* * *

Rahle moved through the crowd of people at the Opera House. He sidled up to Colhart, who was in the act of taking a glass of champagne from an offered tray.

"How's Claire?" Colhart asked the artist.

"Mademoiselle Prenessant is in a very sour mood," said Rahle. "I gathered that it is the presence of the professeur that angers her."

"Not quite," Colhart said in a low voice. "It's the professor's complete lack of attention to her presence that she's mad about."

"She loves him?" Rahle asked.

Colhart let out a short laugh. "I wouldn't put it that way. She more or less wants Ratigan for his money."

"Why is Mademoiselle Prenessant dressed like a certain girl?"

Colhart shot him a suspicious look. "Rahle, what do you mean?"

"I saw the face in the papers of the girl that the professeur used to try to take over the throne of Denmark. Mademoiselle Prenessant is dressed to ressemble her. Why?"

Colhart handed Rahle a cigar. "Don't you worry about that," he said lightly. "We are scheming. You are here by invitation of the Opera House. Enjoy yourself."

A middle-aged woman walked up to Colhart. "Landon!" she said, embracing him. "It is so good to see you, little brother!"

"Celeste! How is your husband?" They strolled away.

Rahle watched Colhart as he walked with his sister to a small group of people.

Someone tapped him on the back. He spun around. "Monsieur Basil!" he exclaimed. "You're alive!"

Basil raised his eyebrow in bewilderment at the excitement. "Yes..."

Rahle's eyes fell upon me close on Basil's heels. "Mademoiselle!"

I shot Basil an equally confused look. "Bonsoir to you too, Monsieur Rahle.

"Meg!" Basil ducked and pulled my arm, dragging me behind a large.

"_What?"_ I snapped. Then I paused, and whispered, "Colhart?"

"No..."

A tall, bulky man with a thin mustache and long white hair walked up to Rahle and began to talk to him in rapid French. Basil pulled me closer to him in an attempt to get us further behind the plant. Rahle led the man away from us.

"Memorize that face," Basil murmured. "That's Ratigan."

I remembered the day in Rahle's attic that Basil had looked under the sheet that had hidden a 'top secret project.' "With one of Rahle's masks?" I asked.

"Yes."

We waited there for a few moments, Basil still gripping my arm tightly. "Can we get up now?"

"I think it's safe."

After another moment I said, "Umm, Basil?"

"Hmmm?"

"You can let go of me now."

"Oh." Basil released his grip on me. "I am going to follow Ratigan. Find the Duchess."

"All right."

* * *

Celeste and Colhart were laughing with some of her friends when Miche came up to Colhart. "Monsieur Colhart, may I have a word?" he asked.

Colhart glared at him. "Pardonnez-moi," he said to the group. He went to a corner with the henchman. "What is it?" he hissed.

"Basil and Sarentis. They've both escaped!"

"What? How is that possible?"

"They took your brother and the automobile. We traced the vehicle. It's in the back alley behind the Opera House."

"Damn it, they're here!" Colhart hissed. He took a deep breath before continuing: "Keep an eye out for them, especially my brother. Make sure that you find them before the rat does. It'll be our tails if he finds out!"

* * *

Claire brushed her way past a young brunette woman, searching for Colhart's sister. "Oh, sorry," the brunette said in English, obviously too distracted to take much notice of the prima donna in a wig the same color as her hair. She continued to make her way through the crowd.

Claire watched her go, a dark feeling consuming her soul. She went back to the one of the dressing rooms, searching frantically through the racks of costumes. She pulled out a plain pink dress, one of the chorus dresses from an opera the company had performed earlier in the year. It was an exact copy of the one worn by the brunette.

"Let's see James' little darling get away from this one now," she said, grinning wickedly to her reflection in the mirror as she held the dress in front of her.

* * *

RAEB: I am so confused.

Emma: Me too.

Lizz: Meg, JWJ got another postcard. It's from Paris.

Meg: _What?_ You're kidding!

Lizz: Ummm, no.

Meg: _(reads) _'Postscript: Tell Meg to read the newspaper.'

RAEB: _(reads newspaper) _A singer from the Paris Opera House was kidnapped a day ago.

Meg: I wish today was April Fool's Day. I can't deal with this!


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter Thirteen

* * *

_(CIA agents barge in)_

Agent 1: Megana Sarentis, you're under arrest.

Meg: What'd I do?

Agent 2: You were an accessory to the kidnapping of a French Opera singer.

Meg: _What?_ I didn't help anyone kidnap that singer!

Agent 2: _(holds up Ratigan's postcard) _Then explain this postcard.

Meg: That's not even addressed to me!

RAEB: _(to Agent 1)_ You have a secret camera installed in here?

Agent 1: Yep.

RAEB: In that picture? _(points to painting of a house in Charleston)_

Agent 1: Yep.

RAEB: I knew it!

Sarah: _(pointing) _What about JWJ?

JWJ: Hey, I didn't do anything!

Sarah: He's plotting to turn the 2004 presidential elections in favor of the Republicans by hacking into the Democrats' files.

Agent 2: Really? Good job son.

Emma: _What?_

Meg: _(as she is dragged away) _I swear it wasn't me!

* * *

Ratigan stepped out onto one of the balconies looking down onto the stage, allowing himself a small smile.

How perfect it all was! Colhart had both Basil and Meg. He could barely contain his excitement when he thought of all the marvelous ideas he had for what to do with Basil. He had a few in mind for Meg as well...

Claire, dressed as Meg, was poised to kill the Duchess that very night. Without Basil in the picture it would be almost impossible to pin the murder on anyone else.

The criminal mastermind let out a deep, throaty laugh as he pictured Meg's reaction to his setting her up as a murderess. If she did not already despise him she certainly would now. What did that matter to him? She could not live safely or freely in society after such a deed. How could she possibly take up the life she had known before? She would be forced to stay with him. No one else would come to her aid.

It was so brilliant. Sometimes his genius even amazed himself.

* * *

Basil lost sight of Ratigan when he had been spotted by some of Colhart's men and ducked through the crowd to avoid a confrontation.

When he was sure he had escaped their sight he straightened up and began searching for his archenemy again. His eyes scanned the crowd of big hair and bigger dresses, tuxes and bow ties in the hopes of picking up sight of Ratigan's mask. Instead he saw Meg make her way through the crowd. She went up to the Duchess and engaged her in conversation. He sighed in relief. She was near the Duchess; close enough to prevent anything from happening to her.

Rahle ran up to Basil. "Monsieur Basil, there's something terrible that is going to happen!"

"Yes, I know," Basil said, his eyes fixed on Meg.

"No, something terrible! Get Mademoiselle Meg out of here!"

The detective turned towards Rahle. "What do you mean?"

* * *

I stood on my tiptoes, looking through the crowd for the Duchess. I saw her standing on the other side of the room around a group of other women, all in light-colored golden, white and cream dresses, with one woman wearing a pink dress. I looked down at my own dress, and then looked up at the woman's pink dress again. Then I noticed her chestnut brown locks. Then she turned around. I nearly gasped; it was like looking in a mirror!

The woman laughed with the other women, her eyes on the Duchess. Sweat broke on my brow. Subconsciously I began to walk towards them, shoving guests aside, trying to shake off the feeling that something was terribly wrong.

* * *

"The professeur!" Rahle pointed to the stairs.

Ratigan stood on the staircase, grinning wickedly at Meg and the Duchess. Basil knew she had been spotted.

"Monsieur Basil, he is plotting against her, look!" Rahle exclaimed, pointed to Meg and the Duchess. Basil turned back to the two women. The girl drew out a long dagger and plunged it into the Duchess's chest.

Basil stood there in shock. _Meg?

* * *

_

"No!" I shrieked, running from another direction.

"_Meg?"_ Basil and Ratigan exclaimed.

My twin pulled out the bloodstained dagger and faced me. "You!" she exclaimed, laughing madly. She threw the dagger at me, but I easily knocked it away. She tore off as the crowd parted for the murderess, some of the women shrieking. I took off after her.

* * *

Ratigan shoved his way through the crowd. "Colhart!" he growled, gripping the unfortunate mouse by the throat. "What happened? I thought you had Miss Sarentis under lock and key!"

Before Colhart could answer, Basil and Rahle were shoved into them by the movements of the panicking crowd.

"Basil!" Ratigan snarled at the same time Basil snarled, "Ratigan!"

"What is going on here?" Rahle asked.

Everyone looked at the master of disguises as if they wanted to tell everything to him. Then they all glared at each other.

"Who's the fake Meg?" Basil demanded.

"How did you get here?" Ratigan barked.

"Where's my brother?" Colhart asked.

"WOULD YOU ALL SHUT UP!" Rahle shrieked. They all looked at him uncertainly. "Professeur, release Monsieur Colhart."

Ratigan reluctantly dropped Colhart from his grasp. "Get away from me!" he snarled.

Colhart scrambled away.

"Monsieur Basil, tell Professeur Ratigan how you escaped. And Professeur, tell Monsieur Basil the reason that there are two Mademoiselles."

The two rivals exchanged bewildered glances. Their eyes narrowed as they shot each other looks of hatred.

"NO!"

Rahle sighed as the duo ran off to find Meg and Claire.

* * *

Claire and I stumbled through the auditorium as she jumped on my back, her right arm around my neck. I gasped for breath, trying to pull her arm off of me. When that failed I rammed backwards into a wall. She held on more tightly, so I thrust backwards. She cried out in pain and let go. I bolted toward the stage, through the curtains, up a flight of stairs and down a hallway. I reached a ladder at the end of the hallway and turned around. Claire had stumbled into the hallway.

She pulled out a pistol and pointed it at me.

I climbed up the ladder as shots rang out. I pushed the door open and pulled myself up onto the roof. I slammed the door shut and leaned against it. Another shot, this one splintering the door near my arm, sent me flying away from the door.

She through the door open and shot at me again. I ducked and darted for one of the golden statues on the corner of the building, my only hope for cover.

Before I made it I heard two voices yell, "STOP!"

I turned around and saw Basil and Ratigan burst through the open door.

"Help me!" I screamed.

* * *

Basil started forward to help her, but Ratigan stopped him with an outstretched arm. "Meg, which one are you?" he called out.

"ME!" they chorused. When the gun clicked empty the one Meg tossed it aside and ran towards the other one near the statue, who darted away from the side of the building. The first one tackled her to the ground, while the second one grabbed her next and tried to choke her. They began to wrestle with each other, tumbling towards the edge of the roof.

Rahle stumbled onto the roof, and stopped in his tracks as he saw the two women. "Which one is the right one?"

"I don't know!" Basil exclaimed. "One is certainly going to kill the other soon."

"Claire is your work," Ratigan said to Rahle. "You should know!"

Rahle studied them for a minute. "It's too dark up here!"

"You're kidding!" Basil snapped. "The entire roof is lit up for the ball!"

"There has to be some difference," said Ratigan, shaking his head.

"You two know the real Mademoiselle! You figure it out!" Rahle yelled.

Basil and Ratigan gave each other anxious looks.

The Megs were now struggling for possession of a switchblade. The one who wielded the blade had started to lose control as the other rolled on top of her. She began to twist the blade away from the girl with the blade and towards the would-be attacker. As the one with the blade threw her left hand up to gain a stronger hold, the detective and the professor simultaneously noticed the glimmer of something more than the blade on her finger.

"Her wedding ring!"

* * *

My imprisonment in Colhart's wine cellar had exhausted much of my energy. I could see it now as Claire's strength overcame mine, and my own switchblade was turned against me. As the blade fell upon me I closed my eyes, hoping it would not hurt when it pierced my throat.

Then I felt the woman's weight lift from me, accompanied by a shriek. I opened my eyes. Ratigan had his arms wrapped around my struggling attacker. He pulled off the wig, revealing a blonde woman somewhat older than me.

"Claire!" he snarled.

"I hate you, I hate you!" she shrieked, kicking at him.

He threw her to the ground. 'Goddamnit Claire, what has gotten into you?"

"You'll have _her,_ but you won't touch me!" she screamed.

"Why would I? I can't stand you!"

"Why?" she gasped.

"You're nothing more than a money-grubbing whore!"

« _Arretez! Arretez!_ »

We turned around. Policemen began to pile on the roof. Basil, Rahle and I threw our hands up on command. I glanced back at the other two. Ratigan froze in place.

Claire looked as if someone had shot her. She paused, and then darted to the edge of the roof and leaped off.

I shrieked and turned to Basil, burying my head against his shoulder. He held me tightly, whispering, "It's all right Meg... it's all right."

Basil's and Ratigan's eyes met. It was at that moment that they became enemies again. Basil pulled me towards the police, away from the rat.

The professor hurled himself at us, only to be restrained by the Parisian police. He began to claw out of their grasp.

Basil took me back down to the stage, through the Opera House, and out the front door. He led me to Landon's automobile in the alley. The detective turned the crank below the engine and let it suck in gas. Then he jumped in. "Come on!"

I folded my arms. "No! I am not getting in that vehicle with you."

"Meg, now is not the time to be playing games!"

"You drive like a madmouse!"

I heard shrieks and screams come from the Opera House. The Napoleon of Crime skidded to a stop at the entrance to the alley, several thugs at his back.

"Meg," Basil said with strained patience, "a certain mad 'mouse' is going to kill us unless you get into this automobile."

I scrambled in without a second word. Basil hit the gas pedal and flew straight for Ratigan. The Napoleon of Crime darted out of the way as we flew past him. More gunshots followed us as we tore off through the streets of Paris.

* * *

Leigh: _(on phone)_ Let go of the Opera singer!

Ratigan: _(on other end) _Not until the ransom money is paid!

Leigh: But Meg's in jail!

Ratigan: Maybe this will start a criminal streak in her, and she'll stop writing those ridiculous stories about me.

Leigh: Fine. Leave her in jail. See if I care.

Ratigan: All right. _(Hangs up)_

RAEB: Told you it wouldn't work. He wouldn't help Meg if you offered him dictatorship of the world.


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter Fourteen

* * *

_(Meg enters)_

Lizz: How'd you get out of jail?

Meg: I threatened to tell the Democrats about the hacking. It wouldn't look too good for the old Bush administration if they were trying to encourage that sort of thing.

Emma: Leigh, you can get off the phone now.

Leigh: _(on phone) _Come on! I'll throw my track coach into the deal. He's a real slave driver. No? How about the head coach? He has a doctorate in biology.

Sarah: Is she still talking to Ratigan?

Emma: No. I think she's talking to a nuclear physicist who has connections with Ratigan.

JWJ: What the heck does a nuclear physicist have a need for a track coach with a doctorate in biology?

Meg: I give up trying to figure out anything anymore.

* * *

One nauseous ride later we arrived at the Parisian police station.

Basil presented the papers he had taken from Marcus Colhart to the chief of police, a man named Bernair.

"Well, Monsieur Basil, this would be very useful to us if Marcus Colhart hadn't already admitted to his guilt in the death of his sister and turned himself in," said. the portly Frenchman.

"He turned himself in?" Basil asked.

"Oh yes. And you know where his brother is?"

"Contact Notre Dame."

"Bon. We are currently looking for the whereabouts of Professeur Ratigan as well."

"I can't help you there," said Basil. "He's probably fled the city."

"And Madame Havers," Bernair said to me, "we are going to have to ask you a few questions regarding the murder of Celeste, Duchess of Bachenstrauff, neé Colhart."

"I did not do it!" I cried. "I was framed!"

"Until we have evidence proving otherwise-"

"She did not do it," said a quiet voice behind me.

Basil and I spun around. _"Dawson!"_

The doctor grinned. Besides a small scar on his left cheek he looked perfectly fine. "Yes, it's me."

"You're all right!" I threw my arms around him.

Basil looked up and sighed impatiently. When I broke away from Dawson the detective shook his partner's hand, beaming. "Old friend," he said softly. "How did you find out that we were here?"

"Rahle," Dawson shrugged.

Basil and I exchanged confused glances. Rahle? He did not get involved in his clients' business. Why would he contact Dawson?

We knew, however, that Rahle would not give us any more business if we discussed this in front of the Parisian police, so we kept our mouths shut as Dawson said to Bernair "Mrs. Havers did not kill the Duchess."

"Vraiement? What evidence do you have of this?"

Dawson placed an envelope on the desk. "I got off a train earlier this evening, and made my way to l'Opera. As I was approaching, I saw the chaos created by the murder. A certain gentleman saw me and came over, asking me to deliver this letter to the police stating Meg Havers' innocence of this crime."

Bernair opened the envelope and read:

"'_Megana Sarentis Havers did not murder Celeste, Duchess of Bachenstrauff. I hired Claire Prenessant of l'Opera to commit this crime. She disguised herself as Mrs. Havers to frame her for murder._

'_Mlle Prenessant threw herself from the roof of l'Opera when the Parisian police came so she would not be arrested and executed for murder._

_James Ratigan'"  
_  
I could have been pushed over with a feather.

"Well, this confession is evidence enough," said Bernair with a smile. "You're free to go."

* * *

Dawson listened patiently on the train as Basil and I related all that we had gone through to him. Rahle sat next to him, looking bored.

We had run into Rahle in front of the police station. Basil and I had tried to ask him why he had broken his own rules and decided to help us. "I was never paid," was all that he would say. We did not push the subject when he added that he was going to London to open up a new studio.

When we were done with our narratives Dawson told us about the night we had left London. He and Mrs. Judson had not been harmed badly. Mrs. Judson was all right, recovering at Baker Street. The little boy had pulled through as well.

"Hah! That is nothing!" Rahle said loudly. "Once I was held at knifepoint in my chambers in Paris by burglars, threatened to give up my fortune!"

I yawned and leaned against the seat of the compartment, suddenly hit by exhaustion.

Dawson laughed at the little French mouse. "By how many?" Basil let me lean my head against his shoulder.

"A dozen, at least!" Rahle responded.

"Rahle, your apartment couldn't even hold five," I muttered sarcastically, closing my eyes.

"Stay out of this, you silly girl!" he barked at me. He exclaimed to Dawson, "They almost killed me! But I was able to convince them that I had a machine gun, so they fled."

Dawson raised an eyebrow. "A machine gun?"

"Yes, a machine gun! Beat that!"

Basil placed his Inverness over both of us to use as a blanket.

"I was wounded in military service in Afghanistan. The bullet is still in my shoulder."

"That is nothing! I fought in North Africa!"

"With what army?"

"The Italians!"

"Men," I said sleepily.

"Just ignore them," Basil murmured.

"We were ambushed by the Ghazis. All but four men were killed from my outfit," said Dawson. "I was one of them."

"The Ghazis have no organization. The Ethiopians do."

"Says who?"

"Says everyone!"

The two bragging mice grew fainter and fainter as Basil and I drifted off to sleep.

* * *

Meg: I spent all of my Easter break trying to finish this. I hope you all enjoyed it; I have so much fun writing these! And I promise to work on Meg and Basil's relationship.


End file.
